this corner of the room
by Senzafine
Summary: A corner of a classroom is not the same as the corner of a tennis court. Here, they're not just teammates, but friends. A series of oneshots exploring the friendship between Eiji and Fuji and what it means to grow up, both off and on the courts.
1. the sky to fill up

_author's notes Hi everyone! Please enjoy **this corner of the room.** Because of the nature of this series, a collection of one-shots (some of which are interconnected), please go through every chapter and read the summaries. You don't even have to start with chapter 1, just pick whatever interest you and read on! I haven't seen a collection of Fuji/Eiji friendship fics and decided to remedy the situation. Hope you enjoy!_

title: the sky to fill up  
word count: 1,442  
summary: It wasn't jealousy exactly, but more like a longing. Fuji reflects on the Kikumarus, his neighbors for as long as he could remember and their happy home, casting a dark shadow over the sibling rivalry between himself and Yuuta.

* * *

**  
the sky to fill up**

Sibling rivalry ripped my world apart. I can smile and take another slice of pie, watching Oka-san and Yumiko talking about her high school, Miyakouso Gakuen, the upcoming regional tournaments and how Migaku's volleyball team is currently ranked 4th in the country. ("Now I'm really glad that I didn't play tennis. It'll be too much, ne, Oka-san?"). I smile lightly, watching Yumiko braid and unbraid her hair, the bandages around her wrist clean like snow. Oka-san will smile quietly behind her hand, asking if I wanted more tea and perhaps Mozart or Bach will be playing softly from the stereo in the living room.

And then I'll look at the chair next to me, Yuuta's place carefully set with not a glass of tea, but a tall, sweating tumbler of milk (He said he wanted to get tall, taller, tallest in the family), chopsticks quietly resting against the edge of a big bowl of udon, tiny puffs of smoke circling the air.

If they see it, they pretend not to notice, though Yumiko saves a piece of pie, wrapping it carefully in plastic wrap. Sometimes Yuuta comes home, most often with that baka, Mizuki following, and eats alone, in front of the TV or in his room, loud music slamming against the wall that separates him from me.

Oka-san said it's because of influence, but I know better. Yuuta doesn't want to see me. It gets lonely, though I smile lightly and listen for the sounds of his footsteps, the greeting he forcefully calls out, filling my world with light  
--

"Eiji?"  
"-Eh? What's wrong, Fuji? I'm telling you a story! A story! So Oishi and I were just walking back from his house, and I was carrying the biggest watermelon that ever grew in Japan and then we saw Momo with Ann-chan again! AGAIN!"

"Eiji –"  
"-Hoi, hoi! Yeah I know! Saying he's not dating her! I bet he won't because he's scared of Tachibana-senpai, nya!"

He tapped the edge of his pencil lightly against his desk, smiling at the shadow the lamp was making against the line of cactus that stood on his windowsill. Ruffling through his math textbook, he felt the door open slightly, the sudden whiff of his mom's perfume lightly scenting the room.

He cradled the phone between the nook of his shoulder and his cheek. Eiji's voice seemed to amplify in his ear, relentless energy even this late at night.

"I'll be scared too, nya! If he can fight as good as he plays tennis, Momo's got a lot to watch out for, ne, ne, Fuji?"

Silence.

Eiji banged the phone, once, twice, three times against the corner of his chair, sending his teddy bear falling from the seat. Swinging his arms high over his head, Eiji took a deep breath and flopped backwards on his bed, crinkling the array of papers underneath, knocking his math textbook onto the floor.

"SYUSUKE FUJI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Less then a second after the scream left Eiji's mouth, a vicious knock was heard against the wall, his older brother's voice booming. "Neko-chi!!!!! I'M TRYING TO SLEEP HERE!"

"Tomo! What did I tell you about yelling at your younger brother?"  
"Oka-san! I have a soccer game tomorrow!"

"TOMO! Stop being such a baby!"  
"I WASN'T TAKING TO YOU, WAS I? Eh, Yuki? Was I?"  
"OKA-SAN, MAKE HIM STOP!"

"TOMO!"

"Oka-san, its Neko-chi's fault! He started screaming."  
"Ne, he's lying, Oka-san, nya! He's lying!"  
"NEKO-TOU! I WON'T TAKE YOU TO THE CONCERT IF YOU DON'T BE QUIET!"  
"YUKI-ANISAN! Did you hear how mean he is, nya?"

"Stop it, Tomo! Ji-chan's studying!"

"HE'S LYING! NEKO-TOU NEVER STUDIES!"  
"TOMO! BAKA! BAKA! BAKA, NYA!"

"TOMO! BAKA-NII! WHO HAS AN ENGLISH TEST TOMORROW?"  
"ANIKI! Tomo-nii's yelling at me!"  
"TOGA! Go on, tell Neko-chi to be quiet!'  
"BOTH OF YOU RIGHT NOW -"

"Stop picking on Eiji-chan!"  
"YES! YES! TELL THEM CHI-SAN! HOI HOI!"  
"He's playing a sport too, you know -"  
"And he's studying hard, unlike you two!"  
"YEAH! BAKA! BAKA! My oneesans are the best! NUMBER ONE, NYA!"

"Yuki! Toga! Chihiro! Tomo! I HAVE WORK TOMORROW!"

"Gomen, Otou-san."

His laughter streamed quietly from the phone, continuing to fill Eiji's room with peals of melodic laughter as Eiji slumped against the door of his room. With one hand, Eiji rubbed at the corner of his left eye, opening his mouth to yawn widely.

"Fuji! Thought you hung up on me, nya."  
"No. I was wishing my Oka-san good-night."

"Stop laughing already."  
"Neko-chi, eh?"

"I SAID STOP –"

"EIJI-CHAN!" With just a bit more anger, his father's voice rang through the quiet house, making Eiji's shoulders flinch. He jumped up from the floor, picking up his teddy bear with his free hand.

"So, Neko-chi, what did you get for problem 45?"  
"EH!?! We had to go up to number 45!?!"  
--

My house in the morning light gleams, the light blue roof the same color as the sky. It's tranquil, serene. Oka-san likes to take morning walks, usually walking Yumiko to school, holding a paper umbrella high over their heads so the sun won't burden Oka-san's already weak eyes. I watch them, two heads bowed under that bright red umbrella, for as long as I can, holding onto the strap of my tennis bag with one hand, my bento box with the other.

I tap my shoes once against the threshold of the house, a custom my otou-san said will warn off bad luck before putting them on my feet and close the gate quietly behind me. I hum a song, or think about the English passage I have to recite today while I wait.

Every day it's the same. Tomojiro on his bike, waving his arms and screaming about something relating to soccer or his girlfriend, Hikari, Togashi following, riding the bike with one hand, the other holding up a bento box. And Eiji would be running, running and laughing and pulling at the wrist of Chihiro, telling her to hurry up. It's a mess of laughter, of big voices booming in the air. At the corner, Tomo and Toga wave, shouting good luck and thank you ("Thank you for watching over my otouto."), Chihiro will ask me about Yumiko ("Has Yumi-chan left? NO! I'll be late for practice, again!") and with one last ruffle of his hair, they'll leave, separating to different streets, headed for their separate high schools.

And Eiji will stand there, grinning, holding onto the bento box Toga threw at him and already eating the candy Tomo tossed in passing, and my heart yearns.

I want a family filled with energy and joy. Too much tranquility and too much silence breaks my heart. If I tried to ruffle Yuuta's hair, he'll snap his head back, barking at me to back off. I want so badly what Eiji takes for granted.

He'll never know though, eagerly complaining about homework and how practice will never end, how Tomo's a big idiot and everyone was plotting to eat up all his snacks for being too loud. With a smile, he'll hold up his open palm, revealing the second piece of candy Tomo threw to him, the one he gives to me every morning as we walk to school, sometimes just the two of us, sometimes meeting Kaidoh and Oishi along the way.

Each morning, the candy's so sweet, I think they're stars, falling from the sky to fill up the Kikumaru home with even more light. I try hard not to look too closely at the jewel-colored wrapper just in case I'm wrong.  
--

"Ne, Fuji. Three packets of Pocky, two cans of Pocari Sweat, a bag of shrimp chips and a chocolate bread!! How's that, nya? Who's generous? Me, I know! Hoi, hoi!"  
"Absolutely not."

"FUJI!!!!!!!!"  
"You can't look at my homework –"

"But, Fuji --!!"

"Kikumaru-kun."  
"Yes, Sensei?"

"Please come up to the board. Problem 45."  
"Yes…."

"Good luck, Neko-chi!"  
--

He falls asleep on my shoulder on the way back from practice. We're usually so tired, we take the bus back home. I watch him sleep, remembering the days Yuuta slept so carelessly against me, forgetting for the moment that everyone calls me a genius, a prodigy. I am just Syusuke, his older brother.

Eiji wakes up the second time I push against his shoulder.

"Ne, Toga-nii?"

He blushes furiously, bowing his head again and again. He doesn't have to apologize. I should thank him. And I do, the best way I know how.

"Eiji, come inside for a moment, will you? Yumiko made a pie last night that we couldn't finish –"  
"And it's all for me, ne, ne, Fuji?"

"Of course."  
--

_author's notes 2: So my brother joined his high school's tennis team last spring and was instantly put as a starter on the varisty squad. Which basically means he has more athletic ability then I have (It took me three years to become a part of the varisty team!) he introduced me to prince of tennis and boom..brand new obsession born. I always liked the fact that Eiji and Fuji were often stated as being very good friends and thought I'll create a series of one-shots to expand on that friendship. I guess you can read it as implied shouen-ai, that doesn't bother me. But for the record, I don't really support Eiji/Fuji pairing, or have an intention on making this series into a balant shouen-ai. Please continue reading though. It was fun, thinking up the possible interactions Eiji can have with his older siblings. _

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	2. the truth of the matter is

title: the truth of the matter is  
word count: 1, 237  
summary: On the tennis court, inspiring. In the classroom, heartwarming. At home, almost brotherly. But on the bus, Fuj and Eiji together leads only to utter chaos.

* * *

**the truth of the matter is**

They never sat on the bus together because an incident occurred in their second year that forced Tezuka to make it an official rule.

Of course, this story was often blurred to include a tennis racket wandering into Takashi's hand, making the usually benign upperclassmen into the raving, English-spurting monster of his alter ego. It served well enough on the tennis court, but on the bus back from a long day of matches, Taka was best when quiet and smiling. Another variation of the story included Inui falling out of his seat and rushing to the front of the bus, begging Ryuzaki-sensai to stop. When the bus did halt with tires still spinning, Inui dove headfirst into the stream, pulling clumps of grass and reeds in a gesture that spoke of victory. Oishi was said to cause a disturbance by pulling everyone's tennis bags down from the overhead storage, only to reveal a live frog was loose on the bus. Where that frog came from remains a mystery even today.

After a while, though the incidents varied between something Inui wanted to get, Oishi's clumsy attempts to stop chaos from descending onto the bus or Taka letting loose with anger and lots of energy, one thing remained the same; Eiji and Fuji laughing, clamping hands over their mouths and lowering their heads in hopes that Ryuzaki-sensai wouldn't see.

After the sixth bus ride home ended with a detour that delayed their return back to Tokyo by two hours, Tezuka realized that this had to end.

He pulled aside Eiji, gesturing for Fuji to walk on ahead. The best way to deal with them was to separate one from the other; trouble grew exponentially when they were together. What Tezuka did not see was Fuji taking a sharp roundabout, sneaking his way to crouch by the garbage cans.

"Kikumaru-kun."  
"Eiji-kun."

Tezuka stared blatantly at his smiling teammate, the gleam of his eyes matching the width of his smile. Tezuka coughed, pushing his glasses up his nose with one finger. He tried again, shifting his eyes to look at the strap of Eiji's tennis bag.

"Kikumaru."  
"E-I-J-I."

Eiji swatted at his cheek, making a gesture for Fuji to move slightly to the left, to fully hide behind the garbage can. Tezuka followed Eiji's gesture to stare over his shoulder but saw nothing else than a slightly wavering branch from the shrubs near the garbage cans.

Coughing, Tezuka started his speech again, "Kikumaru, it has not escaped my notice that you and Fuji are –"

"Ne, ne, Tezuka-bunchou, don't tell me you want us to be doubles partners?" Eiji let out a laugh, shifting from his right foot to his left, casually throwing his tennis bag high into the air before catching it with his other hand. "Hoi, hoi! Don't break up the Golden Pair, Bunchou!"

"No, that's not it."  
"Eh? Then…. Oh! Oh! Bunchou, you can go too if you want."

Tezuka saw Oishi approaching, carefully wheeling his bike. Perhaps it was the way Tezuka's eyebrows were furrowed in frustration or the glimmer of determination in his eye, but whatever the case, Oishi nearly tripped trying to pedal himself away from where Eiji and Tezuka stood.

"Go where, Kikumaru?"  
"To Harry's Pet Store, nya! I promise, we can all go. You wanna buy a bird or somethin', Bunchou?"

"No –"  
"How about a turtle? You look sorta like a turtle, nya! There's one I named Jimmy, he's gonna be so big one day."

"No-"  
"Not a turtle man? Hoi, hoi! A cat! A cat would be perfect, Bunchou! Snowy will teach you about Acrobatic Play, nya."

"NO!"

Even Fuji had to laugh at the way this conversation was going, quietly chuckling into his hand as he kept the other wrapped tightly around his tennis bag. He never heard Tezuka response that vehemently to anyone else.

"Kikumaru! You are not allowed to sit with Fuji on the bus anymore!"  
"How come?"

"I would like to know that also, Tezuka."

He wasn't surprised that Fuji appeared from behind the trash cans, his uniform pristine and crisp, as if he didn't spend the last five hours in the hot sun, two hours of which was spent warming up and playing a tennis match, and the last ten minutes crouching in the dirt. He wasn't surprised either when Eiji let out a cheer and grabbed a hold of Fuji, placing a jovial arm around Fuji's shoulder, assaulting Tezuka with a wide variety of protests.

Fuji smiled, fixing the strap of his tennis bag that Eiji jostled with his arm. "If you like, Tezuka, you can sit behind us."

Eiji let out a cheer, squeezing Fuji a bit too tight in the curl of his arm, "Yeah, yeah, Bunchou! You'll see, we're harmless, nya."

"I resent you suggesting that Fuji, knowing full well that as Captain, I must sit with Ryuzaki-sensei."

"Ne, ne, Tezuka, you jealous or somethin'? You can't sleep when Ryuzaki-sensei's watching you, nya?"

"No that's not –"

"Eiji, I told you, being a Captain is hard work. Tezuka probably can't even listen to his music when Ryuzaki-sensei is nearby."  
"Hoi, hoi! Don't worry Bunchou, when we sit next to you, we'll play our music loud so you can hear, nya."

"I never said –"

"Tezuka, aren't you glad our team cares so much for each other?"  
"That's why Seigaku's number one!!"

"LISTEN!" His yell surprised even himself, causing Tezuka to lower his eyes and fix his glasses. He shook his head, trying to remember what Ryuzaki-sensei told him about managing Fuji and Eiji when they were like this; reckless, loud and irritably devilish.

Eiji's hand slipped from Fuji's shoulder but his smile was still big. Fuji watched Tezuka, head tilted slightly in concern.

"The truth of the matter is, myself and Ryuzaki-sensei have reason to believe that you two are the cause of the.." Here he coughed, trying to suppress a slight smile, "erm.. the detours we've been having."

"And what proof do you have, Tezuka?"  
"Yeah, yeah, what proof, eh?"

Tezuka reached forward, as if to grab a hold of Eiji's shoulder. And suddenly, the two were off, running in separate directions, calling out their good-byes and good-nights and Tezuka was left with a frog crouching in his open palm, croaking miserably in the gathering twilight.  
--

They were not allowed to sit together on the bus. For a year and a half, they usually sat across from each other, or one row apart.

The frog and exactly what Tezuka did with it still remains a mystery even to this day, and though there were no detours on the bus rides back home, there were minor disturbances. Like waddled up paper balls hitting Echizen squarely on the forehead causing for a team-wide fight to break out, a balloon suddenly exploding, waking everyone up on a long ride back home and Kaidoh accusing Momo of pining a "Kick me" sign to his back ("I wouldn't even touch your back, Viper!" SHUT UP! Who else would do it but you!?!")

The disturbances varied in form and in severity but one thing remained the same; Eiji and Fuji laughing behind their hands, bowing their heads hoping that Ryuzaki-sensai would not see them, a quick, sly high-five to each other when they walked off the bus and home together, laughing and laughing, refusing to indulge exactly what they were laughing at it, or who.

--  
_author's notes: aw, man, these two are so cute. Sorta like how my best friend and his brother interacted with each other. _


	3. physical reminders of what

title: physical reminders of what  
word count: 2,207  
summary: He wears a mask. But Eiji sees cracks beginning to form. Underneath is a Fuji no one ever imagined existing. But Eiji know**s.**

* * *

**  
physical reminders of what**

If you think about it, if snapshots were only happy fragments of memories, then snapshots would be nothing but lies. Near his bed, on the corner of his nightstand, by the lamp, standing in frames of wood, accented with cacti in tiny plastic pots, were some of his favorite snapshots, all smiling and warm. There was one of the team, Echizen in the middle, proudly holding the trophy they won at the Kantou regionals. There was another of the seniors, Takashi flashing a big thumbs-up, Oishi blushing and Tezuka and Inui holding up the plaque Oishi won for being the top of the exams, beating Tezuka by a mere margin of 1 point. Near a cactus that bloomed with light purple flowers was a photo taken outside his house on the first day of middle school, Eiji's big grin and an arm wrapped tightly around his shoulder, their heads tilted towards each other.

If your eyes were good, if you weren't distracted by the beauty of composition in each of the pictures (how the sun was caught shimmering against the trophy, how wind was frozen, forever striking Tezuka's hair lightly over his glasses), you would notice that there was a light crack in the corner of the frame of the snapshot that stood near a flowering cactus. It was tiny enough that eyes could pass over it, but large enough to warp the shadow of reflection across the photo.

And when you hold it up to the overhead light, to take a closer look at the crack, he'll probably direct your attention to the photos he took of his family, hanging like trophies by his bookcase. Or he'll mention lightly how dinner might be ready (if you went over for dinner that is), or how you better start doing homework (if you came over to study). At the very most, he'll grab you lightly by the wrist and smile, his warm smile washing over you like a sea of amnesia.

You'll place the photo back on the nightstand and forget it completely.  
--

There was only one person who never forgot.

Only one person knew why Fuji kept that photo in a damaged frame.

It was during the last, bitter cold week of December. He found out exactly what that crack meant and how snapshots were more than happy memories, but physical reminders of what used to be and in that way, filled with not just regret, but also the hope to change.  
--

His grandma was born in the mountains, and similar to families with cold in their blood, all his brothers and sisters could not stand the snow. Because he was his grandma's favorite, because he spent a winter living with his grandparents in their house before they moved to Tokyo, Eiji loved the snow, content on going out and rolling around in the backyard, with Boo, Toga's dog, barking and sending snow flying with his paws and nose. They used to let Eiji play, turning on the backyard lights and watching him from the window, his sisters complaining how sick he might get, his mother blaming his grandma's eager chuckle at the fact that for dessert, they'll have to eat snow ice-cream.

And still, they stood inside, pressed up against the screen window, outlined in light, watching Eiji play, Boo's tail wagging hard, harder with each of the snowballs Eiji threw.

"EIJI-CHAN!"

Eiji paused in mid-roll, the snowman's torso pushing lightly against Boo's barking, yapping side. "Yeah? Oka-san, what, what?" He stuck out his tongue at Boo, gripping the side of the snowball with both hands.

"Syusuke's coming over now."  
"YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!""

He threw up his hands, letting the snowball fall completely on Boo. The snowman was abandoned as Eiji hurried to run back into the house, kicking snow off his boots and removing his hat before coming inside.

The warmth of the living room smelled sweet, the dinner Toga and Chihiro was cooking drifting from the kitchen made Eiji's face blush. His mother smiled, tilting her head as Eiji tore off his jacket, throwing his gloves onto the floor.

"My, you're excited."

His socks clung to his bare feet, and to pull them off, Eiji almost rolled off the couch into his mother's giggling arms. "Hoi, hoi! It's Fuji! For the whole weekend, too. My aniki-tachi have nothing on him."

"HEY, I HEARD THAT, OTOU-JI!"

Eiji grinned at Toga's voice, hugging his mother with both arms. "Oka-san, Toga-nii lied. He was late because he was on a date. A date, a date! Who's the baka now, nya?"

And before Toga could answer, before his mother could turn around to scold Toga for lying and Eiji for tattling, he was off, running upstairs as fast as he could.  
--

He stood blinking in the rectangle of light, his hands still wrapped lightly around the handle of his bag, the other holding onto the umbrella that dripped snow. They screamed all at once,

"WELCOME FUJI!"

Eiji's grandpa rushing forward to grab a hold of his bag, Eiji's older brothers complaining that he shouldn't overexert himself, Eiji's mother bowing, trying to clear the way so he could walk into the hallway, his sisters giggling behind closed hands and his father placing a hearty hand on Fuji's shoulder, nearly knocking Fuji to the ground with his robust gesture of welcome.

Fuji's head spun with joy. And then footsteps were heard, another booming voice and Eiji flew down the staircase, wrapping his arm around Fuji's shoulder and pulling him out of the cold, the gathering dark into the light of a happy home.

"Ne, ne Fuji, what did Yumiko bake for us?"  
"NEKO-CHI! DON'T YOU HAVE ANY MANNERS!"

"SHUT UP, TOMO-NII."

Fuji smiled as Eiji's mother bowed slightly. "I hope this weekend will not be more trouble than you would wish it to be."

"No, Kikumaru-dono. Thank you for letting me stay here." He bowed deeply, from the waist as a gnarled hand tugged at his wrist. Fuji turned to smile into a face weathered and marked with wrinkles, eyes as bright as Eiji's own.

"Oba-san." Fuji bowed again as Eiji's grandma laughed, shooing everyone into the dinner room, Eiji's hand still wrapped around his shoulders.

"Please think of this as your home."

Fuji's smile lightly lifted the corners of his eyes, "You always say that."

Eiji chirped brightly, his voice matching the warmth of the kitchen, the living room, the whole house, "Oba-chan never says something she doesn't mean!"

"Hoi, hoi." And Fuji had to laugh, how Eiji learned his characteristic saying from his grandma, the little gnarled woman whose eyes still shone brightly, her laugh loud and unrestricted and beautiful, like the falling snow.

"OTOU-JI! BOO'S STILL OUTSIDE."  
"Oh shit."  
--

They slept together on the floor, placing futons an arm-width's apart from each other, Boo and Chihiro's cat, Sen curled in the space between. Fuji knew dinners at the Kikumarus was a buffet, six or seven dishes passed around, the animals eating scraps that Eiji threw onto the floor. Fuji placed a hand on his stomach, feeling how full he was as the other gently ran down Boo's ears, tugging lightly at the ends in a way that made the dog murmur in peace.

Eiji's heels kicked against the floor as he read his manga, eating the last slice of cake Yumiko baked as a thank-you for hosting her younger brother for the weekend. He was so absorbed in his comic, Fuji thought Eiji would never notice him quietly reaching out to ruffle through his bag, shaking a small pill into his open palm. It was only after Fuji swallowed his pill that Eiji looked up, his voice soft.

"What's that for, Fuji?"

He wanted to smile it away, the deep pang twisting in his stomach like a knife. He wanted to be quiet, hiding behind his frozen, almost stoic smile.

"Nothing."

Eiji sat up, throwing the manga against the wall as he shuffled near Fuji's lying figure. "You lie."

"Doesn't matter."

Fuji turned on his side, wishing Eiji a good night as he gathered Sen into his arms, bringing the warmth closer to his own shaking body. He prayed Eiji wouldn't press the matter, he prayed that tonight wasn't the night he'll break down and let that mask crumble into bits.

Eiji's hand on Fuji's back was warm, just like the rest of his existence, his family, his life. "You lie, Fuji."

It took all of Fuji's willpower not to break down, to collapse into that patch of warmth, so blindingly inviting, filling all the dark corners of Fuji's life. It took all of what made Fuji to stop him from opening his mouth and tell.

It took all of Fuji not to let Eiji in.  
--

The rest of the weekend was all the loud sorts of happiness, Eiji's sisters insisting on filling Fuji up with food so sweet, he could taste sugar on their breath when they talked. Eiji's father took 'the boys' as well as their smiling, crimson-scarf-wearing Grandma for a day trip to go snowboarding, Toga completely failing to make it past the bunny slope, Eiji and Fuji both taking double diamond trails with free-falling flips and screams.

And because Fuji-Kikumaru, as Grandma and Grandpa fondly called him, was going to celebrate New Years overseas with his father, the Kikumarus had their own celebration, a week early. When Eiji's father pulled into the driveway, Eiji nearly broke Fuji's arm, ushering him into his house, where Grandpa and Eiji's mother spent all day cleaning up and decorating.

Fuji almost cried when the lights dimmed, Eiji lighting up candles on a lopsided cake and the whole family wishing Fuji a fantastic New Year and Happy ("early, early, nya!") Birthday.

It was towards dawn that Fuji, dressed in a winter's yukata, ascended to Eiji's room, his arms filled with wrapped food to bring back home, gifts he promised not to open until New Year's and Sen, who for the duration of the two days Fuji came over, refused to leave his side.

Everyone was either still downstairs, drinking and eating and singing off-key karaoke, or asleep. It was better that way, Fuji thought as he emptied his gifts onto the top of his bag, dropping Sen lightly on the pillow of his futon. He tried to not spend time with Eiji alone, just in case Eiji pushed Fuji once more on the verge of telling.

No one needed to know.

He reached for the side pocket of his bag when suddenly, something light struck Fuji squarely on the back. His shoulders stiffen as his eyes widen in surprise.

"I didn't know you were that kinda sick, nya."

If Fuji turned, he would have seen Eiji sitting at the edge of his bed, bare feet barely skimming the clean floor, Boo's tail loyally thumping against his ankle. If Fuji turned, he would have to bend over to pick up his canister of Zoloft pills, his eyes meeting Eiji's. He would have known that Eiji knew.

But Fuji stood still, his back an arrow, his shoulder squared against the pain. He waited for Eiji's accusations, how long he was on antidepressants, what exactly was he depressed about, why didn't he tell anyone? He waited for Eiji to talk, to robustly demand what the hell was going on.

What happened instead was the floor creaked slightly with his footsteps, Boo walked over to gently nudge against Fuji's side and Eiji gathered Fuji in his arms, a hug that took the place of the deathly silence.

And when Fuji spoke, his voice wavered, "Sometimes, Eiji, I get sad. Sometimes, I feel completely alone, even here --"

And Eiji listened, watching Fuji's mask crack, then crumble into fine, invisible dust before his eyes.  
--

If you wondered why there's a crack in the frame of the photo that showed Eiji and Fuji smiling, arms forever linked in a show of friendship, know this; it wasn't something full of angst, with Fuji hysterically crying and hiding in shadows. It wasn't a fight between brothers, resulting with Yuuta accusing Fuji of loving his best friend over his family. It wasn't even Fuji, in an overt show of how much he really missed his traveling father, trying to break down what was good in his life.

There's a crack there because of the nights Eiji ran to Fuji's front door, carrying Sen in his arms, because Fuji couldn't stand sleeping alone with his mother visiting his father in China or America, his sister away in Kyoto or Hiroshima or somewhere because of volleyball or debate and Yuuta wasn't coming home from St. Rudolph. Eiji, who greeted Fuji with a ceaseless amount of cheerfulness and energy, saying the same thing he always does,

"You okay today, Fuji?"

There's a crack in the picture frame that holds the photo of Eiji and Fuji on their very first day of middle school because it showed the first person to break the mask Fuji wore, day in and day out.

"A little better than yesterday, Eiji."

It was a physical reminder of what used to be, that crack creating a divide between regret of what was, and the hope that things were going to change.  
---

_auhtor's notes: Don't worry. There's going to be a dramatic one-shot around Eiji next time I update. Thanks for the support, though the review numbers don't indicate it -- this fic's getting a decent amount of hits. Thank you so much. _


	4. all things considered

title: all things considered  
word count: 2,606  
summary: Sometimes, the happiest people have a secret that weighs down their soul. Eiji was always happy – right? Then his secret must be crushing him nearly to death

* * *

**all things considered**

Eiji Kikumaru had secrets.

Like how he feigned sleep on the bus, so he could watch Momo and Echizen and Kaidoh sleeping, making mental notes on the conversation between Inui and Oishi (so apparently, he'll be on a special diet and exercise regime starting next week, to make up for his lack of stamina) and trying as best he could to make sense of Taka-san's senseless drabbles about sushi (which for him was still just a food and not an art form). He would sit there, arms crossed, eyes closed and listen, trying to learn all their secrets, the little things they say when he appeared to be asleep.

Another secret he had was that at Harry's Pet Store, he helped clean up the cages and felt like a criminal. Though he loved the animals (and seriously, who couldn't help but love the turtles that swam back and forth in lazy half-motions), he could never shake off the impression of a jail, of corners that stretched high into the sky, promising no escape.

He would never tell anyone how he caught Toga-nii kissing Yumiko, though his sisters would be happy that their blockhead oldest brother finally got a girlfriend, that through this relationship, the Fujis would become even closer to the Kikumarus. There was something so fresh and sweet, just a tiny kiss in the sunniest spot of the garden, that Eiji was filled with longing. His first kiss will be just like that.

His favorite out of all his siblings was Tomo, though they fought and bickered all the time. Eiji remembered clearly the sight of his bicycle slicing through the hard fall rain, Tomo's big smile when Eiji was on the verge of tears, accusing everyone of forgetting to pick him up from grade school, the big orange umbrella Tomo held high over Eiji's head. He remembered when as a joke, Fuji signed him up to run for class president and the day Eiji had to make a speech, staring out at the crowd only to see Tomo, alternating between tugging at Fuji's ear and scowling him and lifting up a fist into the air in support of Eiji behind the podium. And when the speech was meet with no applause, Tomo clapped first, loud, joined by Fuji and the other regulars of the tennis team.

When Eiji had a nightmare when he was younger, he ran to Tomo and slept under his big brown-bear blanket. Tomo was his favorite brother and Eiji hoped no one learned that secret, just in case Chihiro stopped buying toothpaste and CDs for him, Toga ceased to drive him to faraway tennis matches and Yuki refused to cook him dinner. But Tomo was his favorite, the one Eiji ran to when he needed anyone at all.

Tomo was the only one privy to Eiji's darkest, deepest secret, the one Eiji carried with him like a corpse, silent but malicious, waiting to crush whatever light Eiji brought to the world. And Tomo did what all big brothers did – wait in the shadows, wait for this corpse, this secret to be buried forever, wait and wait.

Tomo thought this was the best way to protect his beloved baby brother.  
--

Secrets wound around Eiji's legs like chains, making him wish he could grow wings and fly. That's why when he wasn't training with the tennis team, he was in the gym, twirling and flipping all over the floor, scampering over beams and high rings suspended in the air.

When he moved like that, he felt, just for a few seconds, free.

Gripping at the sides of his shorts, to remove excess sweat, Eiji took a deep breath and ran down that narrow blue mat. At the last possible second, where he let his breath explode like a cloud out of his mouth, Eiji twisted his body and twirled completely in the air, his arms crossed lightly over his chest. He landed perfectly on his feet, hardly making a sound, barely sending an impact of force on the gym's floor.

A slow clap rang through the air, and turning, Eiji smiled brilliantly, knowing full well the only one who would be there.

"Ne, ne, Fuji, watching me again, eh?"  
"That was magnificent, Eiji."

Fuji lifted a hand to caress his right cheek, smiling as Eiji ran over to him, throwing his arms high into the air. Eiji grabbed a hold of Fuji's free left wrist, tugging at his friend to follow him out of the gym door to the little foyer outside. Nestled between Eiji's scattered books and discarded uniform jacket, leaning slightly against his propped tennis bag was a bento box, stacked three layers high.

"Hoi, hoi! See what Oba-san and Tomo-nii made for you and me, nya." Eiji let Fuji's hand slip from his grip as he grabbed a hold of the bento box and turned, bowing deeply before Fuji's smiling face.

"Congratulations, congratulations, nya!"

He reached out, lightly pressing the flat of his palm against the top of the bento box as Eiji lifted his head to grin. "They're happy we passed our exams."

"Is that so?" Fuji's smile disappeared, his bluer than sky eyes sparkling in the sunlight that filtered through the nearby windows.

Eiji blushed, pushing the bento box into Fuji's stomach as he grabbed a hold of his jacket. Without pausing to look into Fuji's face, Eiji pulled on his uniform, bending forward to jam his bare feet into rumpled socks, and then into his clean tennis shoes. He wanted to hear Fuji settle on the bench next to him, lifting the covers of the bento box and inhaling the smell of tempura and rice, Oba-san's famous Chinese-style fried rice. He wanted Fuji to smile and eat, quietly talking about practice and the practice matches with St. Rudolph. Instead, as Eiji continued to keep his eyes studying the cracks on the floor tiles, he heard nothing.

The smile he put on his face felt as if it was going to crack his whole body in half with that strained effort. "Ne, ne, Fuji, wait till I play against Yuuta this Friday, nya."

He lifted both of his arms high over his head, clamping his fingers together as he twisted this way and that, "Ryuzaki-sensei making me play singles! And against Yuuta Fuji-chan! Hoi, hoi."

"We can't –"

Eiji stopped in mid-sentence as his hand settled lightly on Eiji's shoulder. The bento box was placed on the bench and Eiji squirmed under Fuji's gentle touch. He shifted his eyes to stare past Fuji's face, the serious light shimmering from Fuji's eyes. Eiji watched the way the wind pressed branches of the trees against the window, how their shadows elongated against the far wall to look like cats.

"Eiji, are you listening to me?"

Fuji's other hand tugged urgently at Eiji's wrist, his head tilted towards Eiji's own. "We can't –"

"I KNOW!" Eiji's scream was the first thing to catch Fuji in surprise, the force of his voice upsetting Fuji enough to let his hand slip from Eiji's shoulder and wrist.

His voice was steady as Fuji placed a hand against his hip, watching Eiji's own face as he spoke again, "I won't let you copy me any –"

And before Fuji could finish his words, Eiji let out another scream, pushing Fuji hard against the bench and ran off, leaving behind the bento box turned on its side and spilling food all over the floor, his tennis bag crashing like a thunder clap, a bell signaling the end.

"Eiji.."  
--

"That's so strange." Oishi scanned his eyes over the tennis court, sending a quick smile towards Arai for successfully serving an ace past Kaidoh's crouched figure, before returning his glance back at his doubles partner.

"What, what?" Eiji wiped at the sweat that clung to his neck with the back of his hand, adjusting the jacket he kept tied over his waist. The spring sun was warm against his back as Eiji cradled one of Oishi's spare rackets into his chest. His breathing was irregular, a telling sign of exactly how hard practice's been, his shoes kicked off to let his bare feet soak in the sun.

"Eiji, why didn't Fuji come today?"

"Tch, why does he need practice for? He's the genius, remember?" Eiji couldn't meet Oishi's glance of concern, settling instead to let out a yell for Echizen who was playing a rather fierce practice match against Momoshiro.

"That's the way to go, Ochibi!"  
--

"Oh shit!" His hands searched through the pockets of his pants, the uniform jacket, his white button-down shirt. They paused at the intersection, Oishi running back to where Eiji stopped walking.

"Eiji?"

"It's okay, it's okay, nya!" Eiji grinned, holding up his hand for a high-five. "I just forgot something back at school."

"Want us to wait for you?"

Eiji paused to look at Inui and Taka, their faces still red from the strenuous amount of running during practice. Momo was so tired that he couldn't even ride his bike, holding onto the handles and slowly pushing the bike by his side as he walked.

"No, no, that's okay. See you later, nya!"

Oishi slapped Eiji a high-five, clutching tightly against Eiji's raised hand for a second before letting go. "Okay. Good work, Eiji! Don't forget, I'm coming over tomorrow."

"Yeah sure!"

He cupped his hands and let out a scream, "EVERYONE, GOOD WORK TODAY! SPECIALLY YOU, OCHIBI, SUPERSTAR, NYA NYA!"  
--

He didn't expect anyone would be still in the school, the doors locked and the cleaning staff already hard at work. He flipped through an open window, taking off his shoes to make no sound as he walked. In his hands, he carried his sneakers, murmuring to himself about how cool he must look, avoiding the custodians with their mops, sliding down the stairs' banisters to make his way down to the gym.

Eiji's shoes echoed off the empty hallway as they slipped from his hands.

"Practice was awfully long today, wasn't it?"

Eiji shook his head, refusing to believe that he waited that long for him, until the shadows were no longer against the far wall but gathering near his feet. Even in his state of surprise, Eiji couldn't help but admire how to pass the time, Fuji took one of Eiji's rackets to amuse himself with hitting a tennis ball against the same square on the opposite wall, never stirring from his seat on the bench.

"Wow! That's amazing, Fuji! There's like no light here at all!" And then he forgot that he wasn't talking to Fuji and stomped his feet for forgetting his promise.

With his free hand, Fuji caught the ball and stood, placing Eiji's racket on the bench near the upright bento box. He stood close to Eiji, withdrawing a single piece of paper from his back pocket.

"Eiji, we have to talk."

And instead of lecturing, instead of calling him stupid, Fuji asked him to read what he wrote. "Just tell me what it says."

The piece of paper trembled in Eiji's hand and he thought back to the first day of school, where Fuji's smiling face was the only warm one in a sea of strangers. When his mother got sick and had to go the hospital, Fuji slept side by side on Eiji's bed, crying, crying because Yuuta refused to talk to him, crying because Yumiko spent every day waiting for their father's airplane to arrive.

He knew Fuji's secrets, like how he was scared that Yuuta will never talk to him again because of jealousy, how he himself was jealous of Mizuki and how big Yuuta's smile was whenever Mizuki was around. He knew Fuji.

"I can't-" The paper crinkled in Eiji's hands as his shoulders started shaking, his face trembling with the weight of his secret. "It's hard."

The words, written in Fuji's elegant handwriting, blurred, rearranging themselves before Eiji's eyes. He felt himself blushing, the anger at exactly how stupid he was rising to color his cheeks brilliant red.

"Eiji –" There were times when nothing else could be said, where an arm around shoulders and a smile was enough.  
--

Together they walked home, quietly chatting about what Fuji missed at practice, how excited Yuuta sounded on the phone to play against Eiji, how the bento box was delicious ("All things considered, Eiji, there wasn't a lot that fell on the floor, and I got really, really hungry.") and how hard the janitors laughed when they saw Fuji attempting a cartwheel only to fall squarely on his back ("Ne, ne, it's hard being an acrobat, nya?" "The hardest thing ever.")

But when his house appeared before them, both the back and front porch light shining, Fuji kept his arm around Eiji and continued walking to his house, ignoring Eiji's protests.

"NEKO-CHI!" Tomo threw his arms around Eiji, hugging him in welcome as Fuji stood back, smiling. "GUESS WHO SCORED THE WINING GOAL AT TODAY'S GAME?"

Eiji looked over his shoulder to where Fuji waited, arms crossed and eyes gentle. With a nod from him, Eiji turned to look at his grinning, happy brother. Eiji lowered his head, whispered something so softly that Tomo had to lean forward to catch it. "I'm ready to tell Oto-san now, Tomo-nii."

And before Eiji lost his courage, he removed himself from his brother's embrace and walked into the living room, calling out for his father before sliding open the door.

Fuji waited with Tomo, the shadows creeping over their bodies as they listened to the raise and fall of not just Eiji's voice, but also his mother's, father's, Grandma's and Grandpa's. Fuji handed the now empty bento box to Tomo, smiling into his face at the sight of Tomo's watery, worrying eyes.

"It'll be okay, Tomo-kun."

"I knew –" Tomo's voice was gentle, more quiet than Fuji could ever imagine a Kikumaru's voice to be, "-that being dyslexic isn't that bad, right Syusuke?"

"The only bad thing is that Eiji had to hide it for so long."

"Thank you-" Tomo turned around to fully face Fuji, bowing slightly at the waist. He said the same thing he always said when he dropped Eiji in front of Fuji's house each morning but this time, the words were far heavier, worth much more then typical politeness. "-For taking care of my brother."  
--

"Ne, ne, you sure?"  
"I'm sure Eiji."

"Hoi, hoi! Then here I go!"  
"Do your best, Eiji."

He returned Eiji's wave, already pulling out his homework and his pencil-case, smiling as he watched Eiji dodge traffic and enter into the building across the street  
--

All things considered, it wasn't as bad as he thought it could be. Just an extra hour of lessons after tennis practice every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. The learning center wasn't all that bad either, the tutors patient and eager to help him though his dyslexia. After the first week, he felt confident enough to read aloud the first page of the newspaper to his Oto-san. Words still blurred before his eyes each time he read something, but he was starting to realize when what he was reading wasn't making sense. It wasn't much of a start, but it was something.

And then when it was over, he'll run to the café across the street where Fuji waited, smiling, sometimes with Tomo-nii, something with Yuuta, sometimes alone. They would slurp down milkshakes and talk about everything and together, they'll walk home in the twilight. All things considered, it wasn't so bad.

In fact, Eiji felt free, freer even then the flock of geese that flew above their heads. It was as if Fuji's smiling presence was the only thing that kept Eiji grounded on earth. If not, Eiji would be drifting among the stars, his chain of secrets finally severed from his leg.

Just like that, he was free.  
--

_author's notes: Oh man. I love you, Eiji!_


	5. innocent names

title: innocent names  
word count: 2,297  
summary: They grew up together. When Fuji lost contact with Yuuta, Eiji lost a childhood friend as well. But things change – and a little game of rock, paper, scissors is enough to set things in motion.

* * *

**innocent names**

Karma was a bitch. Plain and simple, no matter how many people tried to tell him otherwise. Yuuta knew that no matter what he did, some things will always go badly for him. He didn't ask to have this innate desire to be a tennis player, he even tried his luck in volleyball, going through the different warm-ups and jumping drills his sister instructed him to. And again and again, he was drawn to those same seven lines that his brother was, compulsively following his brother's footsteps in everything he did.

So on a warm summer's day, Yuuta tried to ignore his brother's constant waving, focusing instead on watching the trails of Atsushi's red, crimson bandana flap lightly against the wind. Mizuki leaned heavily against his shoulder, murmuring this and that about 'rivals' and 'entwined destinies', all words that droned in Yuuta's ears like a mosquito humming to the sun.

"Is that clear?"  
"YES MA'AM!"

On cue, twenty-five of the twenty-eight players assembled for the Junior National Camp bowed lightly at the waist. Yuuta was taught to be even more respectable than that, bowing deeply at Seigaku's Ryuzaki-sensei. A light chuckle was heard and Yuuta lifted his eyes to see his older brother smiling at him, his other hand lightly waving his fingers towards Yuuta's raised face.

He scowled, trying to focus instead on saying thank you for this opportunity, thank you for this chance to prove that perhaps, just once, he was better than his brother.

A few rows back, Eiji watched, his arms thrown high over his head and face radiating with joy. He laughed too, matching his chuckle with Fuji's own. It was remarkable how much Yuuta's grown since he left for St. Rudolph. This was not the same Fuji Yuuta who cried when the two older boys ran ahead to the community swimming pool, he didn't look like he would kick his heels and stomp his feet if Fuji refused to buy him ice-cream. But, Eiji giggled happily at the thought as he felt Oishi's hand grabbing at his side, Yuuta still could not stand Fuji's overt show of almost sadistic teasing. Things were going to get interesting with both brothers here.

Eiji had time to flash a thumbs-up when he met Yuuta's wandering eye, much to the embarrassment of the younger boy. And to make sure Oishi wouldn't die of utter disgust that one of his Seigaku teammates would show such overt rudeness, Eiji bowed quickly before raising his hand high into the sky.

"Yes, Kikumaru?"  
"Ryuzaki-sensei!?! When's dinner, nya?"  
--

Just as expected. Fuji sat off to the corner, trying not to return the stares of an inquisitive Sengoku or the friendly overtures of Oshitari. Yuuta sat in front of Fuji, but with his face staring at the opposite wall, teeth set and face determined to ignore Fuji's stares, his warm smile. The rest of the Seigaku regulars were scattered throughout the cafeteria, making small talk (or in Momoshiro's and Kamio's case, extremely loud, extremely off-putting accusations) before dinner. In front of Fuji stood a glass of water, untouched and redirecting a small slant of light from the window to illuminate Fuji's hand lying on the clean table, casting a golden glow on Fuji's long, slender fingers.

He pulled up a seat, noisily scrapping his chair against the ground, loud enough for Mizuki to look up (though Yuuta scowled and refused to turn around).

"Ne, ne, what you looking at? Wanna start a fight, Mitachi?" He scrunched up the end of his nose, reaching over to grab a hold of Fuji's water glass.

"It's Mizuki, Kikumaru-kun."

Eiji shivered at the taste of warm water mixed with liberal amounts of salt and just a slight tinge of something spicy. Fuji let out a laugh at Eiji's face, taking back the glass and setting it on the table.

"I told you never drink or eat anything that belongs to me."  
"Hoi, hoi! How the hell aren't you sick from that, nya?"

Mizuki curled one of his front locks in frustration, trying to let out a breath, trying to ignore Atsushi's laugh. "It's Mizuki, okay?"

"You don't think this taste good though?"  
"Like drinking soap water after Oba-san washes all the dishes!"

"Mizuki, Mizuki ---"

And still, the two chatted, Eiji pawing at the air as if to make his spoken words more valid, his eyes watching Fuji's face brighten, the shadow of pain he spied earlier that afternoon easing. At one point, Eiji reached over to grab Fuji's phone, quickly dialing a number much to Fuji's protest.

"I SAID ARE YOU LISTENING!" Mizuki slammed his fist against the table, upsetting the glass of water that stood by Atsushi's elbow, shaking Yuuta's bookbag to slide against the edge and onto the floor.

"HEY! St. Rudolph's awfully loud, aren't you?"  
"WHAT YOU SAY?"

Mizuki turned in time to catch the menacing glance of Kirihara and quietly sat, burying his cheek against an upturned hand.

Yuuta threw a look of sympathy towards Mizuki. No matter how crazy he was, or how deep exactly his obsessions went, Mizuki certainly grown on Yuuta since first coming to St. Rudolph, agreeing even to be his roommate during their second year there.

"Listen, Mizuki –"

But his words of comfort were cut off by the loud shrill of his cellphone. Without even bothering to check who it was, Yuuta flipped the phone open, "Hello?"

"Ne, ne, Yuuta, turn around, nya! TURN AROUND."

Without a word, Yuuta ended the call, gathered his bookbag from the floor and walked out of the cafeteria.

"Sorry, Fuji."  
"No, it's okay. You tried."

"Tried what, Kikumaru-senpai?" Momoshiro slid into the seat across from Eiji as Ryoma placed his tray next to Fuji's left elbow.

"Nothing, nya."  
"You thirsty, Momo? Have some water."  
--

He paced uneasily by the door, clutching and unclenching his fist. Karma really was out to get him, no matter what he tried to do. If he were to complain to any of the camp leaders about who was his roommate, he was almost 100 sure that they wouldn't abide to his desires. And he couldn't ask any of the other assembled tennis players to switch – Kikumaru must have spent a great deal of his time talking because his request to switch roommates was already denied four times. And Mizuki flat out refused, citing fear of his older brother and the wrath that may occur.

He tried to make things work between them really he did, but there were times when Yuuta felt a restraining hand circle around his heart, his breath suddenly constricting in the void of space between his lungs and his head pounded from the same type of exertion he had when he ran miles in preparation for tennis matches. Yuuta wondered why he was always so tired when he thought about his brother, and realized one day, while reading a tennis magazine that featured an article on Seigaku's tennis club, he was tired, because in his mind at least, he was constantly running to catch up to Syusuke's shadow.

"GAH!" He let out another yell of frustration and aimed a swift kick at the wall. The worst part of it all was that Syusuke's done nothing but smile and extend an open hand. It wasn't so bad at home, with Yumiko teasing Yuuta about Mizuki and his craziness, Oka-san reading aloud letters their father sent to them from London. But here at camp, where tennis was the only reason why everyone was here, Yuuta was starting to feel, once more, like a failure. There were as always, the disappointed stares of others when they realized he had the right last name but the wrong first one, something Yuuta did not have to worry about at St. Rudolph.

He kicked the wall again and again, until a voice called out, "Hoi, hoi! I was wrong about you bein' too old to throw tantrums, nya!"

"Shut up, Kikumaru." Yuuta blushed, trying to forget how when they were all younger, Eiji always held his hand walking back and forth from the playground, letting Syusuke borrow money so Yuuta can buy another ice-cream cone.

"Kikumaru? KIKUMARU??? What happened to calling me Eiku, eh, eh?"

Yuuta blushed again, refusing to turn around to meet Eiji's face. Of course Syusuke and Eiji would be best friends; they had the same sort of humor; loud, abrasive and unbelievingly charming. Even Yuuta, despite his embarrassment and his developing feelings of anger, had to smile, remembering the day he first met Eiji out by the swings, too young to pronounce Eiji's last name, but too shy to call him by his given name. When Yuuta, barely even 4 years old, stammered out "Eiku", Syusuke laughed and laughed as Eiji twirled and giggled too.

"Come on, just once. Eiku! Eiku! EIKU!"  
"Leave me alone!"

"FINE!" His reflexes were extremely fast, something Yuuta knew was the key to Eiji's fame as a tennis player and before he could even react, Eiji bounded forward and grabbed a hold of Yuuta's tennis bag.

He twirled the heavy bag with one hand, almost as if it weighed nothing at all, hopping lightly from foot to foot.

"Yuu-chan, Yuu-chan!"

And though the name brought up images of Christmas at the Kikumarus, playing with the hose on a brilliant summer day and the sugar-dusted cookies Oka-san made for them during Boy's Day, Yuuta kicked at the wall again with the utterance of his childhood nickname.

"Don't call me that!"  
"You'll always be Yuu-chan to me, baka!"

Eiji's smile faded as his eyes grew serious. He repeated his words again, this time setting the tennis bag on the ground. "You'll always be Yuu-chan."

He watched Eiji running away, shouldering his tennis bag, his bare feet barely making a sound in the hallway. It took Yuuta a minute before what Eiji said to sink in, a smile that he couldn't stop lightening the whole of Yuuta's face.

"Yuu-chan, eh?"

And then he remembered that in that tennis bag, he had not only all his money, his cell phone but also, his clothes. "GODDAMN!"

He was off and running, chasing Eiji down the hallway.  
--

He leaned forward, his shoulders pressed lightly against the slightly ajar door. His hands reached up to wipe away at the tears that formed in his eyes and suddenly, he was laughing, laughing so hard that he fell on his side, pressing his forehead against the clean floor.

Eiku, Yuu-chan, Fujiko.

He almost forgotten those innocent names, the reality of the present forcing him to forget those golden, sun-filled, grass-scented days. In an dormitory room where only one of the two beds were occupied and the window was thrown wide open to let in the summer breeze, Fuji laughed himself to tears.  
--

"Ne, ne, Yuu-chan, let's settle this fair and square."  
"With a tennis match?"

"NO! Rock, paper, scissors please."  
"WHAT?"

"If I win, you drop this and just room with Fuji, nya."  
"I don't want to."

"Have you –"  
"Have I what?"

"Ever tried talking to him?"  
"Course I have."

"I mean, talking to him about stuff besides tennis."  
"…No."

"You should try it, Yuu-chan."  
--

There was something bittersweet in the way Yuuta walked into the room, dragging his bare feet against the floor, his head hung low as if he was in trouble. In the bed near the window, Fuji sat, quietly reading, his face smiling but sapphire eyes glancing and absorbing each of Yuuta's slow footsteps.

He threw his tennis bag onto the free bed and sat at the edge to take off his shirt. Fuji set aside his book, watching his younger brother, his smile more gentle and sincere then before.

Fuji waited for Yuuta to finish rummaging through his tennis bag for a clean shirt before he spoke.

"Yuuta, I asked and Oshitari doesn't mind –"  
"Eleven years and still I can't beat him."

"What?"

Yuuta turned, smiling, his eyes as warm as Fuji's own. "I can't beat Eiku in rock, paper, scissors, no matter how hard I try."

"Neither can I, Yuuta."  
--

They stayed up all night talking, Fuji about how strange it is to see Saeki day after day after finally adjusting to not seeing him for years ("Saeki never liked me, did he, Aniki?" "Yuuta, you were the one who kicked him, remember?"), Yumiko's acceptance to Tokyo University ("God, that means she'll never leave home." "YUUTA!!!" "I was hoping she'll give me her room."), and how utterly ridiculous Eiji was ("How do you get any work done with Eiku in your class?" "Just barely."). Tennis rackets lined the wall like sentries guarding the fragile bonds of brotherhood slowly strengthening as the night went on. They didn't talk about the pros and cons of the eastern vs western tennis grips, how to achieve a perfect topspin while returning a volley, how doubles was not exactly the type of tennis they liked to play (though both knew that the other was a capable enough doubles player if the need arises.) Instead, they talked about their father, what London must be like, how summer would never come soon enough. They talked even as the sky lightened, the crack of early morning light, eggshell pink, spilling through the horizon.

And what they laughed the hardest about, both of them rolling off their beds to kick their heels in merriment, was how when they were younger, they always played rock, paper, scissors with Eiji in a show of protest, when deep down, both Yuuta and Fuji wanted to do the exact thing Eiji was suggesting.

And when they walked to breakfast together, Eiji was waiting for them, his voice echoing all over the cafeteria.

"Ne, ne, YUU-CHAN!!!!! EAT WITH US, NYA!"  
"I told you, don't call me that in public."

And though everyone observed (and some were overjoyed) with the Fujis' recent show of goodwill towards one another, sibling rivalry a thing of the past, no one knew how that happened. Only Eiji knew, his bright eyes flashing with joy at the sight of Fuji and Yuuta eating together, eating off each other's plate and Yuuta's refusal to answer to Yuu-chan, though he blushed when Fuji accidently called him that. Eiji knew without a doubt that underneath it all, they were brothers and that bond was one of the hardest to break.  
--

_author's notes: Okay, one of my favorite, favorite episodes in PoT is the episode where Fuji totally destoryed Mizuki's ass, as well as the when Fuji destoryed Kirihara as well (man, Fuji's so cool). I love the flashbacks between the brothers. Yuuta is one of my favorite characters in the show, and I loved the way the show developed their relationship after their fallout occured. Awesome, awesome, awesome. In my take of the PoT universe, if Eiji and Fuji's houses were close to one another and they both grew up together, then Yuuta must have tagged along as well. Oh.. writing these one shots make me so very happy._

_ FF users Hropkey made me blush, she wrote something awesome on her profile about this corner of the room. JustJill, your words are always a source of encouragement to me. (don't worry, tergiversation is going to be updated soon.) Thanks everyone!! if there's an idea for a oneshot or a scenario (non shouen-ai I mean) you would like to see me write about, please drop me a review with your suggestion. Thanks for reviewing this fic!  
_


	6. clear the path

title: clear the path  
word count: 1, 865  
summary: You can't tell the future, so there's no need to fear it. Fuji and Eiji are determined to show all of Seigaku what it means to really live in the here and now**  
**

* * *

**clear the path**

Quite frankly, he was sick of it. The first hour was actually sorta touching, with the big baddie of Seigaku crying, Kaidoh refusing to leave his post from behind the huge sweeping willow tree near the courts. He even felt a pang of remorse when he saw Momoshiro bury his head into his hands, cupping his face in his upturned palms. But the second hour passed and Eiji was getting antsy, twirling his tennis racket around and around his wrist, shifting from one foot to the other as he watched the underclassmen of the tennis team approach, in either a state of near-tears or phony shows of exuberant enthusiasm, the table where the gathered seniors sat.

"We're gonna miss our senpai-tachi!"  
"Specially our bucho! BUCHO!"

Tezuka kept pushing aside the pile of gifts that the upperclassmen placed like offerings to the seniors, while Inui made notes at the weight and size of each of the brilliantly wrapped presents. Oishi was like his usual gracious self, lifting a hand to cover his watery eyes and thanking again and again for everyone's hard work. The Nationals trophy, the material personification of everyone's dreams, stood like a beacon in front of Takashi who was eagerly proclaiming his valor as a sushi chef while clutching the handle of his racket.

"COME ON, FUTURE! OH BABY!"

The chair next to Oishi's left was empty, Eiji standing off to the corner, partially hidden by the shade of the trees. Next to Tezuka's right stood another empty chair.

Fuji's.

Eiji hated end-of-the-year banquets, with all the crying and fussing as if they weren't ever going to see each other again. That was, quite frankly, bullshit and Eiji had enough of this. Two hours filled with speeches, Ryuzaki-sensei promising to push the tennis team the seniors were leaving behind to even more dazzling heights (okay, actually Ryuzaki-sensei's speech made the lump in Eiji's throat swell, cutting off his breath), toasts and all the underclassmen members of the tennis club making promises to work harder than ever before.

And still, there was more crying, Horio clutching at his heart as if he was dying. Eiji scowled, wishing that it would end, that everyone would take a moment to revel in the spring sun and the brilliant blue sky high above.

"Eiji-senpai.."

"Drop it, I know, I know." Eiji sighed, trying to ignore the sudden flash of Oishi's stern look, Takashi so surprised by this uncharacteristic show of rudeness that he dropped his tennis racket and sat back, at a loss for words.

"KIKUMARU!"  
"Hoi, hoi, Buchou?"

"Twenty laps. Now." Tezuka fixed his glasses in preparation of Eiji's assault of protests, his face contorting angrily at the injustice of it all. And before Eiji could open his mouth to give life to his words, Tezuka stood, pointing to the cross-country path that circled around the tennis courts. "Go!"

"Yes, Buchou."  
--

Eiji swore under his breath as he pushed his way around the crowd of underclassmen, slamming open the door of the tennis court in frustration. Kaidoh threw a look of sympathy his way until Tezuka coughed, making the second year jolt back into attention.

He hated running, hated how tired he got even now, after three years of the most intense physical conditioning he ever went through. His legs were cut out for jumping and flipped and bursting high into the air, but running? Eiji could only run like the wind for a few minutes before his head started spinning and his legs ached.

And besides, it was the last tennis practice before tomorrow's graduation. What right does Tezuka have to order his teammate like that? But with a sudden pang of guilt, Eiji thought about how insensitive his words were, how shocked Horio's face was when Eiji snapped at him, biting away the true feelings from Horio's falling tears.

So deep and interwoven were his thoughts that it took a spray of water to catch his attention. The shock of cold water striking him squarely on the back nearly made him scream in fright, his whole body recoiling and jumping into the air.

"Wow. You really are a cat, aren't you?"  
"NO FAIR, FUJI!"

With another laugh, Fuji shook his water bottle, letting another spray hit Eiji's face. Eiji tried to fend off the spray with one hand, backing up until he tripped, falling squarely on the patch of grass near the track.

It felt magnificent, watching the blue of the sky lightened and shift with the passing of the sun. Heat radiated like an embrace from the sun's hazy rays. He took in a deep breath, smelling the grass, hearing the slight echo of the voices drifting from the gathered team, a few hundred yards away.

He closed his eyes to better feel the warmth spraying over his face. When Fuji sat down next to Eiji's reclining figure, Eiji bat open only one eye to smile at him.

"Feels good, nya?"  
"So why did Tezuka make you run for?"

Eiji let out a laugh, "Why did he make you?"

Fuji gathered his knees close to his chest, leaning his forehead against his raised legs. The wind that blew gently against their faces was gentle, the scent of summer drifting on its curling back. "He didn't. I went for a walk."

"Can't deal with everyone cryin', nya?"  
"Yes."

But both knew that it was just a superficial answer to an equally superficial question. He reached a hand up the sky, fingers spread open as if to gather the folds of the sun in his palms. Fuji watched his movements, smiling as he tapped his waterbottle lightly against his ankle.

Eiji opened his eyes, his voice booming with confidence. "I guess we just have to clear the path for all them, ne, Fuji?"

He lifted a hand to shade his eyes from the burst of light emitting from the sun above. In a day so filled with light and blue and endless infinity, it was hard to shallow so many tears.

"Of course, Eiji." As if on cue, Fuji threw his waterbottle high into the air, a spray of water spouting like a flower to blossom over Eiji's grinning face, Fuji's curled body. The water seemed just as cold but twice as sweet as it dripped into Eiji's open mouth.

"It's the least we can do before we leave, right?"  
"Hoi, hoi!"  
--

Just as the last speech was completed, something whistled into the air. To Arai's untrained eye, it appeared to be nothing more but a pink ball, falling like a miracle from the clouds. But then the balloon made contact with Arai's face and spilled a puddle of water over his open mouth.

More balloons fell, flying in high arcs, targeting the underclassmen and the seniors all at once. With perfect aim, a balloon squarely hit Kaidoh's head, soaking his bandana and causing the second year to trip with the impact. Another smacked Momo's face, sending water to damp his spiked locks as Takashi attempted to fend off water balloons by hiding under the table, And then they came running, Eiji dropping from the tree he perched on, Fuji coming from the rear of the tennis court, tossing and throwing water balloons while screaming. Chaos ascended, the tennis club ripping apart the hung decorations in their mad scramble to find anything that they could use to defend against Eiji's and Fuji's onslaught.

Oishi could only laugh at the sudden ignition of spirit during a day that seemed marked with sadness. He watched Fuji's brilliant smile, Eiji's loud screams overtaking everyone else's laughter and knew that only those two could have made such a thing occur. Even Inui was smiling, throwing handfuls of leftover popcorn and snacks to anyone who ran by the senior's table.

Fuji and Eiji slapped each other a high five and then both turned their attention to Tezuka, who stood with his arms crossed, calmly surveying the watergun/balloon/food fight.

What happened was that Fuji ran headfirst to Tezuka, squeezing a steady steam of water out of his waterbottle as the other hand pellet Tezuka with water balloons. The former captain first stepped aside and then started running away from Fuji's attacks only to crash against Eiji's figure.

"Bye, bye Buchou, nya!"

And that's when Eiji emptied a whole pitcher of soda on Tezuka's head, knocking his glasses to the ground.

"ENOUGH!"

When Tezuka was mad, he could stop even chaos in its wake.

"What's the meaning of this? Kikumaru? Fuji?"

And what they said together, speaking in one voice stole Tezuka's voice away, his anger dissolving into absolutely nothing, "It's not as if this is the end, right?"

Eiji wrapped an arm around Fuji's shoulders, "Ne, ne, Buchou, don't you see?"

Fuji bent forward, picking up Tezuka's glasses with his fingers, "We don't agree on spending this day in mourning."

His eyes seemed to match the sky above, Eiji's smile holding the radiance of the sun. Tezuka could only nod, turning his back on the affair, a signal for the food fight to resume.  
--

She reached out a hand to wipe at her tears. Three years gone. But watching all of them chasing and running and screaming as the afternoon lengthen into twilight gave her a feeling she could not deny as utter joy. In her hand she held a copy of the speech Fuji Syusuke would read the next day, the chosen speaker of his class.

"_..You will never know what the future holds, so there's no need to fear it. Don't live the what-ifs, the yesterdays, the could-have-beens. Live for today._"

You will never know what the future holds. Ryuzaki-sensei's eyes blurred with tears, Fuji's elegant handwriting warped by the built-up of emotion in the whole of herself. Giving a cry akin to that of a wild animal, she cried, watching her team from the window in her office above the tennis courts.

And if on cue, both Fuji and Eiji stared up at her, flashing a smile that dazzled her senses. Ryuzaki-sensei never admitted this to anyone but Tezuka – if Oishi and Kikumaru weren't the poster couple of the Seigaku Tennis Club, if Fuji's real potential hadn't depended on his development as a Singles player, then she would have made Kikumaru and Fuji permanent doubles partners.

It wasn't the fact that they worked well as a pair. Rather, every time those two were together, the scent of summer and the promise of blissful chaos followed. They were clearing the path not just for themselves, devoid of regret and sadness, but for the rest of the seniors as well.

Ryuzaki-sensai thought it once, and she thought it again.

Those two really were something else.

Before Ryuzaki-sensei's watchful eyes, Fuji and Eiji were doing something they did every day for the past three years; they were living today with as much vigor and warmth as the sun above, inciting the same light to spread to everyone else, including Horio with his tears and Momo's long, drawn face.

Today was infinite.  
--


	7. a thousand points of light

title: a thousand points of light  
word count: 2, 802  
summary: On this sleepless night, find me because I'm thinking the same thoughts you are. I'm scared, too. A champion one-shot to "clear the path"

* * *

**a thousand points of light**

Oishi waited with Eiji for as long as he could, his cellphone ringing on and off, chiming like a bell. It was only on his insistence did Oishi leave, promising to call him later that night.

Momoshiro was head of the clean-up committee and after that glorious, irreplaceable golden afternoon, the tennis courts were a complete and total mess, the after effects of a war raged in water, soda, rice, and anything else the team could lay their hands on. Whipped cream dripped from the chain-link fences and popcorn and crushed potato chips cracked under the weight of footsteps.

Even from this far away, he could hear Momoshiro's booming voice, the sound of the hoses as the underclassmen scurried the courts with a spray of water, the shrill scrap-scrap-scrap of brooms scrubbing furiously at the pavement and the surrounding tracks that circled the fenced-in courts.

When Tezuka passed Eiji, Tezuka could only shake his head, trying hard not to smile at the memory of the first time the end-of-the-year banquet ended in complete chaos, refusing even to return Eiji's enthusiastic farewell. There were still bits of rice sticking to the back of Tezuka's head and Eiji could only hold his stomach in laughter, imagining a hungry bird flying by to peck at the Buchou's head.

He waited, outlasting them all. Kaidoh walked by, trying to hide his eyes, streaked red ("Ne, ne, Kaidoh, you cryin' or sumthing?" "NO! Someone threw pepper at me") and Takashi walked off, arm in arm with his father. The afternoon was fading and the only light from Seigaku came from the principal's office, where all the graduation speakers gathered for rehearsal.

Since it was the last time he could do this, he didn't mind waiting, amusing himself the best way he knew how. He was sitting on the edge of the curb, kicking a crushed soda can high up into the air. His bare torso shone with the reflection of the golden sun, his shirt, sticky with soda and dirty with thrown food, was thrown like a towel over his left shoulder.

He heard the footsteps first and lifted his face, his smile already warm and inviting. "Ne, ne, Yumi-dono, Fuji's coming. I just saw Class 5's speaker walk by"

"I don't mind waiting."

Yumiko caught the soda can before it struck her face, pushing aside her bangs with one hand. He noticed she was wearing Toga's class ring on a thin silver chain and smiled again.

"Wow, you really DO like Toga-nii don't you?"  
"Quiet, Eiji."

After that, they sat in silence, her eyes peering to Eiji's whistling self, his smile never disappearing from his face. The streetlamps turned on, pockets of brilliant, fluorescent light that could not match the glow of the setting sun. She cleared her throat once, twice, swatting at the gnats that floated like thoughts around her head.

"So I guess Syusuke told you."  
"Yep."

She waited for a reaction, anything that would show Eiji's disapproval. Instead, Eiji stood, flexing his hands high over his head.

"It'll be good, nya."

He turned to her, tears slipping to fall lightly against the ground but the same warmth never disappearing from his smile, his cat-like eyes. His tears spattered the ground lightly like a summer's rain and Yumiko could feel the whole essence of him, she could even smell him, the green scent of Eiji, kissed with the sun.

"Fuji was the best student in English, Yumi-dono. He'll be fine in London."

She smiled, holding Eiji's shaking shoulder against her body, feeling for the first time what Toga must feel everyday – this almost compulsive need to shelter Eiji from things that would hurt him, things that'll change him until what was good, green and whole in him became dust, coated in pain.

"He'll be fine anywhere he goes, nya."

And Yumiko whispered a secret that she promised never to tell, "He's not going, Eiji."

"Why?"

"He got accepted but he couldn't – he wouldn't leave Yuuta behind –" And she paused to let Eiji go, holding him an arm-width's away from herself so he could stare into her face, her eyes as teary as Eiji's own.

"-Or you and the rest of Seigaku either."  
--

This was the first time in a while that Yuuta got so angry that he left the dinner table, overturning his chair in his haste to stomp his way upstairs. She stared back and forth between Yuuta's abandoned dinner to Syusuke's drawn face as Yumiko burst into tears, crying quietly into her napkin. When the door slammed, their mother stood, her eyes firm. She turned to look at Syusuke, shaking her head and wordlessly followed Yuuta out the door.

And when Yumiko composed herself enough to gather up the dinner plates, her trembling hands dropped a cup, the falling glass catching the reflection of Syusuke's eyes before scattering into a thousand points of light.

She left too, murmuring something about catching both Oka-san and Yuuta with the car, and he was finally left alone, burying his face in his upturned hands.

The glass remained broken across the clean dining room floor, tiny fragments of crystal clear splinters of frozen light crunching under the weight of his slippered feet.  
--

"Can you just –"  
"LET GO!"

"Please."

She bowed her head, her eyes, (not crying, not in pain, just empty, empty shadows, empty light), staring into his face. "Pushing him away –"

He grabbed onto her shoulders, drawing her frail body close to his own. His breaths were shallow, shallower than the vortex of space that is needed to surround stars, making sure they set the sky on fire. Shallower than the rocks that line the river, letting water flow where it should go.

Coughing, she held onto his hand, fingers as long and slender as his own. "-You can't make him go away by force."

And she hugged him, underneath that lamplight that shone like the sun but had no warmth. "Yuuta. Syusuke. My poor, poor boys."  
--

What happened was that his fist connected to the side of Fuji's, sending the slender boy sprawling across the staircase, one hand still clutching to the sleeve of his jacket. He could only look down at Fuji's lying body, the spittle that dripped slowly from the side of his brother's face.

And in a voice that mirrored the sternness of his father's, Yuuta grinded his teeth together and spoke, "You have to go to London."

"YUUTA!" At the foot of the stairs, his sister held onto his mother's elbow, trying to stop the shaking of her old shoulders, her frail bones. "Stop, stop –"

Fingers curled and then cupped his cheek that was sore, that was patched with red, the impact of Yuuta's anger. "Yuu-chan - "

"Are you that tired of living in my shadow?"

With a cry, Yuuta grabbed a hold of Fuji's collar, his eyes wide open and for the first time, streaming with tears. "Don't you understand anything?"

And his hands slipped from Fuji's collar to circle on his neck, pulling his brother close. It was the first time in years he freely gave a hug, seeking Fuji's shoulder to press against his blurry eyes, to lean his burning forehead against. With a shaking hand, Fuji reached out to gently stroke Yuuta's head, his fingers just glazing past Yuuta's cross-shaped scar.

"Please, please go and be with Otou-san."  
--

He couldn't sleep. It didn't happen often, but tonight, he couldn't do it. The house was silent and there wasn't even a breaking of shadow as he swung his feet over the side of his bed and pulled on sneakers. Tiptoeing across the floor, he grabbed a hoodie, jamming his head through before throwing open the window.

The night air was sweet and with a running start, he jumped out of his room and into the backyard.

When he ran, he could taste the metallic taste of the stars. Nothing else moved but his legs, moving on their own accord, to a place he knew he had to be.

Waiting there, on this sleepless night where no shadows could be broken, on top of the curvy slide next to the swings, waiting and waiting, would be his answer.  
--

"I knew you'll come."

He approached the playground just like a cat would, just feet first setting into the dim circle of light the streetlamp made, and then his hands, slim torso, his red-brown hair and then the whole of him.

"I knew you'll be waiting, nya."

He took the hand Fuji offered, pulling himself up to where Fuji sat, knees pressed against his chest, eyes open and swallowing the night sky. He reached out to where a red flower/scar blossomed on Fuji's clear cheek, his fingertips lightly pressing against Fuji's face, "Yuuta hit you, huh?"

"He's angry at me." Fuji recoiled from Eiji's touch, shifting over to give Eiji more space to sit on the top of the slide. "I don't blame him."

Eiji's feet lightly kicked at the slide, the dull thud of his heel striking metal echoing in the space between their thoughts and the omnipotent stars. He was starting to feel lighthearted from the darkness, the type that surrounds and then suffocates.

"Ne, ne, Fuji, why aren't you –"

"Because this is my home, Eiji." Fuji lifted his eyes, the stars just exploding and glaringly bright against the haze of the night. "I don't need to go."

"That's a lie." His hand around Fuji's elbow was so tight that Fuji had to lower his glance to stare into Eiji's upturned face. The intensity there matched the same level of concentration he had when he was playing tennis, a dedication to remain utterly focused and unforgiving. "Your father's sick, Fuji."

"I know."

"That's why Yuuta hit you." Eiji let his grip on Fuji go, his fingers falling to gently press against the wooden platform of the slide. He stopped kicking, his feet hovering slightly in the air. "Because you can go when he can't."

"I wasn't serious when I applied to Harrow."  
"But that was before your father got sick right? Right, Fuji?"

And then Eiji jumped up, stretching his arms high over his head. "Why don't you want to go?"

"I told you, I -"

"I won't hit you but –" His knuckles rapped lightly against Fuji's head before he straightened up, one hand on his waist, "-there's other ways I've got in making you tell me, nya!"

The first time they met, out by the swings, next to the slide, Fuji had ran away from home because he made Yuuta cry again, smashing (quite by accident) one of his brother's prized toys; a wooden duck that opened and closed it beak with a tug of string. Even back then, Fuji hating to see his little brother in pain, all because of something Fuji did, accident or not. He ran, wiping away at tears to the one place he knew his mother could find him if she wanted to; the playground.

And sitting on the edge of the slide, kicking his feet in the air as he cried was Eiji, wiping at the snot running from his nose with the back of his hand. Eiji and Fuji looked at each other then, caught in the same web of childish frustration and tears and when Fuji asked why he was crying, Eiji sniffed and said his brother, Toga, broke his favorite toy.

They were more alike, Fuji thought, then even they realized. What love he had for Eiji reflected the love he had for Yuuta; in his mind, they were all brothers, growing up and trying to figure out what life was doing to them, and why.

Yuuta hit him. Eiji would not. But in both of their eyes, there was a light that shone with pain. It hurt, to reveal the whole of yourself, only to be rejected again and again.

"Ne, ne, Fuji, what's wrong, nya?"

It hurt, not telling anyone.

For the first time all night, the air seemed to lose its frightening hold. He lowered his face to lean against his knees, and in the space between the curve of his legs and his curled body, he opened his mouth. And he told.  
--

When he glanced up at his dark home, only Yuuta's light was on, one square of light that screamed out painfully into the night. He turned to look at Eiji, who smiled at him. And then he walked slowly to his house, unlocking the front door. He walked inside alone, his bare feet making no sound.  
--

"Syusuke?"

He clutched the wrist of his left hand, holding his arms locked together as if to protect him. His back was straight, his eyes startling blue under the fluorescent light of Yuuta's lamp.

Watching his brother standing outside his room, outlined in the darkness of the hallway, Yuuta slowly let the book he was reading slip from his grip, falling from the edge of his bed to land, with a dull thud, on his floor.

"You –"

"What's wrong, Aniki?"

"You have to help me, Yuuta." His bare feet and long legs seemed to glide over the dim light of Yuuta's room, avoiding the piles of discarded clothes, Yuuta's schoolbooks, his tennis bag and guitar case. When Fuji sat at the foot of Yuuta's unmade bed, he was so light that he barely made an indent, his hands already reaching up to cover his face.

"What's wrong?" Yuuta's voice rose in anger, and for the first time, Fuji realized what it meant to let his younger brother see him in his most unsure, faltering moments. This was the ultimate show of trust; letting Yuuta see his vulnerability, his doubt, letting Yuuta for just a few brief minutes, protect him and not the other way around. "Aniki! What happened?"

"I can't – I'm scared." Their shadows crept along the wall like fingers clutching at the empty spaces between. The gap between them was invisible as Fuji grabbed a hold of Yuuta's offered hand. It was as if they were kids again, crying because one brother broke the toy of the other, ice-cream was too expensive and Mom wouldn't let them go to the movies. He held onto his brother's hand, remembering how simple life was back then, when family was family with no shadows, no complications, no explanations.

"I'm scared that he'll know I hate him." The grip on his hand hurt, but just this once, Yuuta won't complain. He stared into his brother's face, the tears that hugged the corner of his eyes, the weight of his anger, years and years old. "I hate him, Yuuta."

"Why, Syusuke?"

"I'll hate Otou-san for leaving you." And here Fuji started crying, freely, his tears falling against Yuuta's palms, onto the floor of Yuuta's bedroom like rain, like stars scattering into the void of space. "-For leaving Oka-san and Yumiko."

"He didn't have to go, he didn't have to break our home, Yuuta. And I hate him for it."

And though he spoke only about Yuuta, their sister and their mom, Yuuta heard in the fractured way his brother spoke, that Syusuke was asking the same question Yuuta often heard him muttered through the wall, during those late nights when Syusuke thought no one else was listening, or even awake to pay witness to his pain. In between Yuuta's spoken words, Yuuta could smell, hear and taste Syusuke's fear.

"You're –" Yuuta stood, his back turned to his brother so he would not see his tears slipping, falling to scatter across the floor just like Fuji's own. "You're not like Otou-san. When you go to London, you're not breaking anything –"

And Yuuta turned then, smiling, "You're fixing it, like how my big brother fixes everything."  
--

Yumiko pressed the back of her palm to stop from crying out loud, her tears falling as quickly as her brothers' own. She clutched at her throat, moved by the beauty of her brothers' words to each other, the beauty of life when everything was simple.

And when she walked to the window to get a breath of fresh air, she saw him watching for the street below, outlined in the eggshell pink of the raising sun.

Eiji Kikumaru stood there, arms crossed, face lit in a calm, serene smile, as if he was waiting for Syusuke to get out of the house, waiting so they could walk to school, together. He stood there, arms crossed, watching the sky and the fading stars, the thousand points of light merging into one glorious sunrise.

When she smiled, he waved in return.

Yumiko turned from Yuuta's open door, walking down the steps to open the front door, letting the morning in, letting Eiji know that everything, somehow, will be alright.  
--

_Author's notes: I usually don't say this, but I'm really, really pleased with how this chapter turned out. Happy Valentine's Day! It also happens to be my brother's birthday and I couldn't help but with a Fuji/Yuuta/Eiji centered fic._


	8. home

_author's notes: so, don't tell me Fuji's acting OC.. this oneshot is supposed to take place in my vision of the future, so who knows what Fuji will act like, especially considering he's been away from Japan all through his high school years. This one-shot has some slightly mature themes, so be on the look-out. It's such a long one shot too.. Oh well!_

title: home  
word count: 4,100  
summary: Native tongues lose themselves after four years away from home. Fuji returns to Japan after graduating from high school only to find that there are some things time cannot change last of the companion fics to "clear the path" and "a thousand points of light"

* * *

**home**

Back home, he never watched anime, content on teasing his brother for obsessively following a series, his brother's nose stuck in the thick spine of a manga. But since there was more rain here, he suddenly had more time then he ever had. Since he was slowly losing grips on his native language, he watched anime without any subtitles, trying to remember when everyone around him was speaking the same tongue, where he didn't have to pause and translate English into words he knew.

Home was a place he thought about almost as obsessively as he ran, through the grey and the rain of London, challenging his legs to pump harder and faster, his sneakers slapping against the concrete, his body an arrow as he jumped over guardrails and blockades. After circling the west side of London twice, he would appear in front of his apartment complex, drops of sweat merging with the rainfall, his breaths squeezed from his heaving lungs to explode into tiny clouds of white mist from the open part of his lips.

Leaning one hand against the top of the gate, he looked up the sky and thought of his brother. Lately, he had trouble sleeping, going from class, to tennis training, to work without bothering to sit down for food. He ate everything on the go, slept whenever he could and thought of his brother.

And of course, when he thought of his brother, he almost always automatically thought about Eiji. There was one difference though, between the two.

As he leaned against the gate, trying to catch his breath, he tried to remember the last time he heard from Eiji, and when it hurt too much to think about it, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

She answered on the first ring, as if she knew he was going to call. As if she knew he would need her and waited for his voice, slightly peppered with a Japanese accent, overly polite when he spoke English, a language as far away from his native tongue as possible.  
--

When he smoked, he sent the fume of dirt grey smoke out of one corner of his mouth. The smoke will curl around his head like the overexposure of his thoughts and then drift out the open window. He loved to sit there, with just his pants on, his shirt lying in a crumpled ball by his bare feet.

She wrapped the blanket tightly over her body to warn of the cold. Even in early May, the rain was cold and bitter, striking against windows only to remain frozen like tears across the pane. She watched him, amazed at his beauty, his blue eyes staring forever out the window, never bothering to turn to look at her, even as the bed creaked with her shifting weight.

Sitting on her heels, she brushed back her fire-red hair with one hand and smiled, mentally reciting his name in her mind once before saying it out loud,

"Syusuke?"

He turned to her then, the lit cigarette resting lightly between his raised fingers. "Yes?"

She blushed then, remembering the first time they met, how her books slipped from her hands and fell, with just one single echo, to the library floor. He came from behind the circulation desk, one hand waving away her protests and knelt to pick up her books, the bundle of her student's works. And the first thing he said to her was that a friend of his back home was going to be a teacher too.

They ate dinner together that night, and the next night, and the next one after that, though he could only stay for only a few minutes at a time. And when he left, her breath was trying to catch up with her beating heart, her chest heaving as she watched him walk away.

They became lovers a week later and she tried to forget everything, the little details, that tore into her; his age, how he never seemed to want to go home, but existed in the realm of Harrow, the library and the bar he worked in, how when his phone rang, sometimes his face grew so angry that she feared talking to him after the call ended.

They became lovers on his 16th birthday (which was in reality, he laughingly said with a hand running through her hair, his 4th since it was fell on every leap year), holding each other even as the rain fell and fell from the sky, covering their secret affair.

She was twenty-two.

Two years later and still, she believed she didn't know a thing about him.

"Excited to go back to Japan?"

Syusuke paused, taking another drag on his cigarette before getting up from his perch near the window. His bare feet were slender, long, just like the rest of him and made no sound as he stood by the foot of the bed. Smoke blew gently over her upturned face before he lowered the lit cigarette to her, his smile already brightening up the bare room.

"No. I'm just going home, aren't I?"

They shared a cigarette, her shoulder laid gently on his crossed legs, his hand stroking and pulling apart her red curls. And softly she said, "When you get back, are you sure you want to-?"

He nodded and lifted his eyes from her face, choosing to stare at the shadows gathered near the door, the window looking like old friends. "I do."

"- This can't go on, Amber. Not like this."

And she held onto to him then, pulling him into her, her lips pressing against the folds of his eyelids, the corners of his ears, the space between his mouth and chin. "You're not coming back, are you, Syusuke?"

He said nothing then, just crossed his hands lightly over her head, accepting her kisses, her slipped tears, the weight of her love for him.

He said nothing.  
--

Four years of training with a very specialized coach gave him more then just speed, agility and sportsmanship. His eyes were sharper, senses heightened and his smile more broad. He was the first to see his brother walking through the tunnel that connected the airplane to the airport and pulled eagerly at his mother's kimono-clad elbow.

"There! There! You see, Oka-san?"

And when his mother clapped her hands and replied that she couldn't see anything, he let go of his hold on her and sailed over the cluster of plastic benches, straight for the airport gate and through the throngs of departing people.

"ANIKI!" He grabbed a hold of his brother's wrist first and then pulled him into a hug.

"Yuuta." Fuji's grip on his single piece of luggage slipped, falling to land against his feet as he returned his brother's hug, his hands clutching at Yuuta's shoulders. "Yuuta." His name in Fuji's mouth sounded like a prayer and a blessing both, breaking a curse, a weight Fuji didn't realize he was carrying.

And then, as if realizing where he was and what he was doing, Yuuta let Fuji go, pushing his older brother roughly by the shoulder. "Oi, what are you doin', cryin' for?"

Fuji shook his head, laughing, "Crying, eh? Yuuta, you look magnificent."

Yuuta blushed, trying to adjust the cap he wore on his head in embarrassment. Nothing's really changed about Yuuta since Fuji last saw him, two summers ago. His hair was the same, his eyes still shimmering and flaring with every word he spoke, but his smile was so warm, enveloping Fuji in its happiness until the grim and the grey of London disappeared.

"Now, that's what I like to see. Brothers getting along."

Yuuta turned to him then, his face flushed as he hurried to bow deeply before his father. Fuji, on the other hand, sank gracefully to the floor, picking up his luggage with one strong hand. And when he looked up, he saw his mother standing by the tunnel's end, her tears slipping, one by one, like rain against the plastic and chrome of the airport.

"It's my Syusuke."  
"Oka-san!"

He ran to her, hugging her with both of his arms, gathering her small, frail body into the grips of his strong arms. She laid her head against her son's shoulder, taking in the scent of him, the whole of him.

"Syusuke – have you been smoking?"  
"Oka-san."

He kissed her lightly against the cheek and hugged her again, remembering how often he cried into his pillow, thinking of her and of Yuuta and of Yumiko. The kimono felt like silk, though he knew she was wearing her everyday cotton one, embroidered with fireflies. The kimono felt like home against his long hands.

Yuuta returned his father's handshake, trying to smile through his tears and hold back the swell and lump of his thoart. "Otou-san."

"Yuu-kun, it's been so long. Look at how you've grown.. you're even bigger then Syu-kun."

And Yuuta tried to ignore how painfully his father uttered his brother's name, the reality of everything seeping through, breaking through the lines of his brother's daily emails, the weekly phone calls, the repeated sentiment that yes, yes, his brother was not only getting along with their father, but starting to make amends.

It was the way his brother refused to stand near their father, the way his hands clung to either their mother's shoulder or Yuuta's own. He glanced up at Fuji then, wondering how much he's changed, and if they could bridge the gap between that change and this present moment.

"What's up, Yuuta?"  
"Ne, Syusuke, wanna get something to eat?"

They were leaning against each other on the ride back home, their father chatting intimately with their mother in the front seat. Syusuke closed his eyes, leaning against Yuuta's shoulders. "Maybe, after I get some sleep."

"Jet lagged?"  
"You bet."

And after Yuuta said softly, his eyes peering out the window as Tokyo slid by, "I missed you more than you know, Aniki." He was silent after that, and his brother slept, for the first time in a while, peacefully, no dreams, no regrets, nothing to disturb his closed eyes, his steady, slowed breath.

Yuuta caught their father's eye through the rearview mirror and exchanged a small, but brilliant, smile. Yuuta crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head against his brother's own and closed his eyes too. The filtered neon light of Tokyo's street signs danced joyously over their sleeping figures.  
--

What was comical was the fact that Ryoma and Momoshiro were already passed out in the foyer, Karupin slumbering on Ryoma's chest, empty food cartons scattered over their sleeping figures.

Fuji was feeling slightly annoyed, as he always was when he had to wake up from too brief a nap. His father laughed heartedly as Yuuta blushed and hurried to wake both Ryoma and Momoshiro while repeating in the loudest yell he could muster this late at night, "ANIKI'S HERE! ANIKI'S HERE!"

There was the usual stomp of feet, Karupin purring and rubbing his head lightly against Fuji's legs and Momoshiro letting out a whoop of joy.

"FUJi-SENPAI! FUJI-SENPAI!!"

The first to grab onto his hand was Takashi as Oishi grabbed onto his luggage, mentioning for Fuji to hurry into the living room while at the same time, chastening Ryoma for eating half of the food. There was a crash as Inui and Tezuka appeared at the top of the stairs, an uncharacteristic smile lightly dancing on his face.

Five, six voices began speaking at once as his mother and father returned Tezuka's polite greetings, Oishi bowing and apologizing for the mess and Yuuta screaming for Saeki to get out of the shower and greet Fuji already.

He was starting to get a headache from lack of food and sleep both as Takashi pounded on his shoulder, asking what it felt to be Japan's only representative for Wimbledon, how to felt to be chosen to play in such a prestigious tournament. And before Fuji could answer, a dripping Saeki, with his jeans on backwards and shirt inside out, slid down the banister and grabbed for Fuji, pulling him into a hug.

"Oi, Fuji! It's Fuji, Fuji!"

Fuji could only smile as Ryoma began to threaten him about the possibility that they might face each other in the US Open ("If you make it that far, Fuji-senpai."), Oishi promising to get everyone fed and out of the house by 4 AM, ("No, no Oishi-kun, it's already 2 AM. Just stay over, okay?" "Thank you so much, Fuji-san.") and Inui badgering him about his bad habits ("Do I smell cigarette smoke on your shirt, Fuji? How will you ever be able to play in Wimbledon if –") Yuuta's arm around his shoulder, Saeki's hand on his wrist were the only two things that kept Fuji from reeling in bewilderment at the onslaught of voices and happy faces, half concealed tears and tight hugs.

And he said softly, whispering to Yuuta, "Where is he?"

Yuuta gestured to the screen-in back porch, smiling. "Go on, see him. We'll get everything ready."

"Yeah, yeah!" Saeki smiled at Fuji, pushing lightly against the small of Fuji's back, "Go get Kikumaru for dinner."

Fuji returned the smile as his friends, his teammates parted to let him pass. When he was near Kaidoh, a tug at his wrist stopped Fuji in mid-step.

"You know, smoking really is bad for you."  
"I'm aware of that, Kaidoh."  
--

He sat where the shadows gathered, swinging long legs over the arm of a wooden chair, feet thumping lightly against the floor. His smile was wide, spreading the warmth of the kitchen Fuji just stepped out of.

"Ne, ne, Fuji, they're a wild bunch, nya?"

His words, the way his hands clawed at the air sent Fuji back to the old days, that last golden afternoon in middle school where everything was happier, simpler. Fuji could barely contain himself as Eiji jumped out of the chair he was lodging in, pulling out his earphones and stood. His figure cut a more defined shadow, his wrists were bandaged and his knuckles were scrapped and bleeding (all evidence of Eiji's continued dedication to tennis), but his eyes, his hair, his smile was the same.

"Sit down, nya."

But Fuji couldn't, not yet. He kept his hands behind his back, leaning slightly against the doorframe of the porch as Eiji hopped impatiently from foot to foot.

"Last time Yuuta emailed me, he said you got accepted to Tokyo Gakugei. Going from Kaisei Academy to Gakudai. Your family must be very proud."

Eiji blushed, placing hand on the back of his head. "Ne, ne, it's nothing. Oishi's and Yuuta's in Kaisei too, and I'm just goin' to Gakudai so I can be a teacher, nya."

"You'll be a good one." There was a light wind blowing from one of the propped-open windows and from the kitchen, they could hear Saeki's screams, the apologetic voice of Oishi and the smell of a burning something.

"A good teacher, I mean." Fuji's smile was peppered with sincerity, making Eiji blush all the more as he hurried to sit back in the chair he just left, twirling his headphones around and around his mp3 player.

"That's what my Oka-san said too."

They were silent until Fuji let out a breath, his hair shifting slightly with his sigh. "Last time I heard from you, it was all about Oishi and his wrist. Is it true then?"

"Yep. He can't play tennis anymore."

Eiji still wouldn't meet Fuji's eyes until Fuji spoke again, "You know, I don't mind that you and Yuuta became doubles partners." No, that was a lie. Fuji tried to rephrase his words, "Yuuta's been telling me playing with you was like training with a coach." Still there was some unsaid tension in the words he could not say. "He told me he's stronger than ever as a singles player from two years of playing doubles. Strange, he wrote, how things happen."

"Strange, isn't it?" Fuji pulled out a cigarette, reaching behind his back to close the door firmly. He strolled to the one window that was open and pulled out his lighter. With a click, the flame sparkled in the darkness, giving Fuji's face an unearthly glow before a hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling the lighter away from the edge of the cigarette.

He looked up as Eiji glanced at him, a smile still on his lips. "Why you smoke those anyway? Ya can't play good tennis with bad lungs, nya."

"Have you ever tried one?"

And when Eiji shook his head, Fuji laughed, turning so he could lean his elbows against the window's frame. "I smoke because everyone in London does. It made me feel less like a stranger."

Eiji's hand slipped lightly from Fuji's wrist and he too turned so he could press his back against the wall of the porch, crossing his legs before him. "You always wrote to me, saying you like it there. Did you?"

"Why did you stop writing to me, Eiji?"  
"I asked you first, nya!"

Fuji tried to remember what it felt like to be able to talk this freely, his native tongue spreading from somewhere deeper than his memory of home, Japanese flowing from his lips easier, more melodic than his overly polite English ever was. "London was different. Harrow was too. I didn't have a home there, even in my Otou-san's flat. He was always gone on business, or flying to visit Oka-san. It was hard."

Eiji's arm around his shoulder felt safe, the deep void in which Fuji could hurl his secrets, his anger, his pain. They sat, legs curled to their chest, a cigarette passing between their bowed heads (thought, after the second drag, Eiji refused to put any more of that crap in his body).

"-And then there was this woman, a teacher at Harrow, Eiji and I –"

They were so deep in conversation that they didn't notice Tezuka standing by the door, arms crossed, watching them, Yuuta's knowing smile as he gestured for Tezuka to leave them be.

"-So I played a lot of tennis and because I never lost a match, I guess Wimbledon wanted me as their wild card so I decided to come visit before the tournament started."

Fuji crushed the still burning cigarette butt against the ground near his heel. In the silence that followed his words, Eiji latched onto every hidden syllable of sadness, loneliness and despair that Fuji refused to give form to, choosing to relate his story in a monotone, almost emotionless tone.

He didn't ever recall Fuji being this open, but this distant, all at once. It was a paradox Eiji didn't want to wrap his mind around.

Taking a deep breath, Eiji turned to Fuji, his eyes staring for the first time that night into Fuji's own, his face losing its humorous light.

"I didn't write to you because I had no right."

Eiji let go of Fuji's shoulder, choosing to wrap his arms around his knees instead, laying his cheek lightly against his forearm. "There I was, seeing your brother everyday, training, playing, fighting with him. I ate at your house, I even slept over sometimes."

Fuji watched as Eiji's eyes watered, remembering how easily Eiji cried, how emotional he was, even at 18, a graduate of one of Tokyo's most prestigious high schools, captain of one of Japan's most influential tennis teams. It was this emotional rawness that would capture the heart of every one of Eiji's future students, just on the merit that it captured Fuji's own, years and years ago when he found Eiji crying about a toy his brother broke, refusing to move until Fuji promised to buy him an ice-cream cone.

"I wasn't replacing you, Fuji. Yuuta just needed someone –"

And Fuji stood, brushing the dirt off his pants, straightening the collar of his shirt. "Let's go get some food, Eiji."

"Wait – what?" Eiji blinked, causing one of his tears to slip down his face, landing with the full force of a puddle on the floor by his feet.

Fuji turned to him, offering a hand. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Aren't you mad?"

He shook his head, a smile breaking across his face like the sun after a particularly bad bout of rain. "No."

"I'm jealous, of course." Eiji titled his head at Fuji's words, how they did not match up to the brazen joy in Fuji's face. "It'll take a while for my jealousy to die down."

"But you're smiling."

He nodded. "You always knew how to help others in ways I couldn't even begin to imagine." And when Eiji took Fuji's hand, grasping his long fingers, Fuji pulled him off his feet, clamping another hand on Eiji's left shoulder.

"He hugged me today, Eiji. It feels like –" Fuji could hear Yuuta calling his name, in-between warning Momoshiro and Ryoma to back off from the food and cursing Saeki and Kaidoh for kicking the oven's door in during an argument. His brother's voice floated towards him to wrap in all the warmth Fuji had, only years ago, imagined. "Like he's ready to just let me be his brother. Nothing else."

"I was worried really, if things were hard on me in London, what about Yuuta?"

"He was worried about you too, you know that right?"

And Fuji didn't reply, only pulling his friend into a hug. Eiji smiled lightly, hugging Fuji back tightly, even tighter then Fuji's arms across his shoulders. And softly, Eiji said, "I could never replace you."

Eiji really was a baby, unable to deal with change. Fuji saw through his happy smile, his built-up tears the worth of two years, wondering if friendships change, if by being Yuuta's tennis partner, and ultimately, Yuuta's best friend something would be different between Fuji and himself. Fuji saw, behind Eiji's flashy grin and tight embrace, the worth of two years spent wondering and worrying and deciding that silence was the best way to deal with it.

He patted Eiji lightly on the head, a gesture he saw all of Eiji's brothers do to console him, and spoke again, "I know."  
--

Some things change over four years. Like Momoshiro's cheeks blushing as Ryoma asked how Ann was doing, Oishi's eager descriptions of Kyoto University and his ultimate dream of being a doctor and Yuuta's refusal to let Mizuki eat the last of the tempura, saving the last bit for himself. They joked about how the Fujis and Kikumarus would become the ultimate yazuka family once Yumiko was married to the eldest Kikumaru, Togashi, and how long it'll take for Ryoma to marry anyone ("How about Sakuno, huh?" "Stupid Momo-senpai!")

And some things didn't change. Tezuka still refused to smile even when Takashi grabbed a hold of an empty bottle and sang in slurred English an old Bon Jovi song, Inui was forever writing things down, this time through a palm pilot instead of a notebook and Kaidoh was content on fighting with not just Momoshiro but Saeki as well (which was rather odd, considering Kaidoh and Saeki not only want to the same high school, Azabu, but were partners on Azabu's tennis team). Yuuta refused to answer to Yuu-chan, though Eiji and at times, even Fuji, called him that, breaking each of Fuji's cigarettes with a vicious snap of his wrist. Both Yuuta's and Eiji's eyes flashed when Fuji mentioned offhandedly that he was watching anime, ("What are you watching, nya?" "Hunter x Hunter." "Oh man, Aniki! Kurapica's the best!"), causing him to laugh and laugh at the glimmer in both their eyes, their wide grins.

Even in four years time, the sushi from Kawamura Sushi, now a three-level restaurant, was still the best he ever ate, Karupin still the fluffiest, most loving animal he ever met and Eiji knew him so well, that some sentences Eiji finished for him.

"So where's the -?"  
"Wasabi's near your elbow, nya."

And, towards dawn, everyone drifted off to sleep, curled in piles in the living room or crashing on the floor of Yuuta's or Fuji's bedroom. Yuuta hugged his brother once more before going to bed, leaving Eiji and Fuji to clean, on their insistence of course, the piles of dishes, clear the mess that was once the kitchen table and pack away the leftovers, though there wasn't much.

They watched the sunrise over Mt. Fuji from the roof of the house, Eiji warning Fuji to be careful as they scampered to all sit in a row, swinging their legs over the edge to lightly strike against the wall. And when Fuji reached into his pocket for a cigarette, Eiji threw a piece of candy his way. The metallic wrapper seemed to sparkle, catching the rays of sun.

In his mouth, the candy tasted sweeter than he thought possible, holding the promise of days, just like this, stretching forever in the glare of light and sun. The candy was sweet, sweeter, sweetest as Fuji sat, jeans pushed up to his calves, his bare feet barely making a sound as Eiji let out one joyous call after the other, greeting the sun.

To his ears, Eiji's voice sounded like a trumpet, announcing to the world that finally, Fuji was home.  
--

_author's notes: So inside joke - Hunter x Hunter has the voice actors of Fuji and Eiji in there, playing two of the most badass characters in that anime, Kurapica and Hisoka. I just think it'll be funny to have Yuuta as a fan of Kurapica, whose voiced by Fuji's seiyuu, Yuki Kaida. I have a weird sense of humor. As for this one shot, I'm surprised by how much I like it. My two best friends are overseas for this spring semester and I'm barely functioning without them around. I can relate to how Fuji/Yuuta/Eiji must be dealing with Fuji in London. Thanks so much for the support!!!_


	9. the worth of things

title: the worth of things  
word count: 2, 968  
summary: After the Rokkaku match, a request is made. Old dreams are reevaluated, while new ones begin to take flight

* * *

**the worth of things**

What happened first was a swift kick to the back of his chair followed by a single slap against the headrest of the seat, sounding like thunder. That was enough to rouse Fuji from his nap, though Eiji's head still titled slightly towards Fuji's shoulder, his eyes closed in undisturbed sleep. The bus was silent, as expected when the ride back to Seigaku was well over an hour long. At the head of the bus was Ryuzaki-sensai and Inui, busy making comments and notes on separate notebooks, their mumbled voices the only sound besides the wind drifting from half-open windows.

Lifting a hand to brush back his bangs, Fuji considered how he was going to take down Echizen for waking him up until he realized that Echizen was stretched out in the seat in front of him, swinging his legs over the side of the seat and hat pushed over his face to block the filtering, hazy sun.

So, after uncrossing his legs and pulling out his earphones, Fuji craned his neck to meet Oishi's bashful eyes.

"Congrats on winnin' today, Fuji."

Fuji brushed aside Oishi's compliment with a slight wave of his hand, steadying Eiji's drooping head with the other. "No big deal."

"I had fun today." Fuji smiled inwardly, trying to remember Saeki's face as they shook hands, the once-over he gave to Eiji before whispering candidly that he always thought Fuji's forte was singles play. "Rokkaku will be a force to deal with, 'specially with their freshmen captain."

"And to think, Rokkaku wasn't even on our radar until today."

There was something else on Oishi's mind, the feeling and doubt enough to make Fuji's smile fade, his eyes taking in Oishi's slumped figure, the way his eyes could not meet Fuji's own. Since their first year, Fuji knew Oishi's nature, how when nervous, he would talk endlessly, ramblings that held a bitter edge to all his spoken words, how his hands would take a life of its own, spinning webs and interconnecting lines to warn off everyone else in noticing his own troubles.

"The Saeki-Itsuki pairing will just continue to grow, given Saeki's ability to read motion like that. It was almost inspiring really, to see so much attention given to –"

Fuji shook his head, trying to follow Oishi's circling hands, the intense light in his eyes, "Oishi?"

"Hm?" Oishi paused, one hand pressed against the windowpane, the other nervously clutching at the hem of his team jacket. "What's wrong?"

"I should be asking you that."

He opened his mouth to speak, only to have a loud ringtone blast through the silence of the bus, causing for Momoshiro to suck in the tiny dribble of spit that dripped from the edge of his mouth and Kaidoh to fall off his seat in shock.

"What the-?" Fuji patted his pockets, feeling the vibration of his phone as the ringtone rang again, a happy melody complete with a high-pitched girl singing gargled English.

"Fuji-senpai!"  
"Turn it off!"

Cries of protest rose from the rest of the team as Fuji hurried to flip open his phone, noticing that it was Yumiko calling as he pushed Eiji hard on his shoulder.

"I told you, stop changing my ringtones!"

"Hy-nya?" Eiji had to shake his head a few times to get his eyes to open up fully, but with a grace that was quickly becoming his trademark, Eiji grabbed for Fuji's phone and scampered out of the seat and into the aisle.

"Oh, oh, it's the Chocolates' Love-sick! Really cute, nya?"  
"Eiji, give it back! Nee-san's calling."

"_Yeah, yeah, what you say? What you say? Lovesick, lovesick!"_  
"EIJI!"

"_Lovesick, lovesick, for you, FOOOOOOOOR YOU!!"_  
"GIVE ME MY PHONE!"

"FUJI! KIKUMARU!"

Fuji let go of Eiji's wrist, suddenly remembering where they were standing, how loud they were screaming, and how narrow Ryuzaki-sensai's eyes were. Her reprimand was sharp enough to make Eiji wince. In that moment, Fuji grabbed onto his phone, diving into the seat and crossing his legs, leaving Eiji standing by himself in the aisle, arms flung high over his head, as if bracing for the rest of their coach's scolding.

"What have I told you about resting AFTER a match? Why aren't you EVER tired from playing? AND WHY ARE YOU TWO SITTING NEXT TO EACH OTHER?"

Taka was the first to laugh, clutching his hands over his mouth and bowing his head to keep his happy face hidden from view. Echizen twitched, pulling his hat lower over his eyes as if to block out the sudden eruption of noise, Eiji's frantic protests and stomping feet, Ryuzaki-sensai's continued lecture and threat that both of them will be running laps ("all the way to Tezuka in Germany") if the rest of the ride back did not go smoothly.

He caught sight of Oishi's eyes, just once, before Eiji slumped back into the seat, nudging at Fuji's side with his elbow. "Gah, what a wake-up call, huh, Fuji?"

Fuji turned to smile at Eiji, trying to push aside what he saw etched deeply in Oishi's face. "Why do you keep on changing my ringtones, Eiji?"

"Ne, ne, Oishi, you like that song too, right?"

Oishi was quick to smile back at Eiji's beaming face, but Fuji saw it again before his big grin overshadow anything else.

It was pain and it was regret. Fuji closed his eyes, meditating on the words he knew was coming, the words that weighed more than anything else at that moment. Outside, the clouds were starting to gather. A storm was coming.  
--

The first rain was often the lightest, enough to make Eiji whoop in happiness, tossing his heavy tennis bag to the ground so he could cartwheel across the grass, yelling for Ryoma and Momoshiro to follow him.

Oishi excused himself, stating he needed something from the locker room as Ryuzaki-sensei gathered the rest of the team to congratulate them on today's victory, though Rokkaku can no longer be taken lightly, given the talent of their captain and their doubles pairs.

Of course, Eiji wouldn't stop letting out cries of joy, tugging at Kaidoh's tennis bag until the underclassmen wheeled around on his heels to chase after the laughing senpai and Taka was attempting to keep a drowsy Echizen standing on both feet.

He smiled, watching them play as Ryuzaki-sensai mentioned again to Inui that this team was all foxes and raccoons, nipping at each other's tails (only to have Inui suggest that he bring out Inui juice as a means of suppressing the madness). Removing his tennis bag off his shoulder to lay lightly on the grass next to Eiji's, he quietly backed away from the gathered group and ran to the back of the school, following Oishi's footsteps.

When it mattered, Fuji could be as silent as a shadow, passing through the wet grass and slick concrete like a thought, a memory.  
--

"What's wrong, Oishi?"

His voice was enough to make Oishi drop the roll of medical tape from his wrist, the loose edges of his makeshift bandage lightly shivering with his tense movements. Oishi stood from his seat on the bench, trying to keep his eyes away from Fuji's own. "Well, though I didn't play today, my wrist is still acting up."

"No, sit back down." Fuji shook his head, loose bits of rain falling from his shoulders to hit lightly against the floor as he strolled over to where Oishi stood. "I'll finish taping it for you."

He kept his head bowed, concentrating on Oishi's wrist, the slight swell, the way Oishi's lips pursed together though Fuji's touch was gentle, barely pulling at the bandage.

"Didn't realize the injury was that bad, eh, Fuji?"  
"No."

They were silent as Fuji wound tape around Oishi's wrist, and on his insistence, all the way to the base of his fingers. The rain seemed to pelt at the window, with a tenacity that shook the glass though the echoes of Eiji's, as well as Momo's and Taka's laughter, drifted on the back of the storm wind.

Oishi cradled his wrist onto his lap, staring intently on the near prefect job Fuji did as the other boy sat waiting, legs crossed as his hands ran through his damp hair.

"#1 at Nationals." Oishi bit back a corner of his lip, trying to keep his voice steady as he spoke, "That's what Eiji told me. That's why we were doubles partners, to push each other towards that goal."

"And now look, Fuji." Oishi attempt to grasp one of the rackets that stood by his feet in a neat pile, only to have the racket waver in his unsteady grip. "I can't even hold a racket right anymore."

His hand gently covered Oishi's own and lightly, Fuji pulled the racket from Oishi's hand. "Oishi, listen –"

"Please." Oishi stood, his head bowed as Fuji looked up in surprise. "Continue playing with Eiji."  
--

The rain fell harder, lighting flashing quickly in the sky as Eiji waved bye-bye to Momoshiro's younger sisters, calling out a good evening to Momo's parents. As the car pulled away from Seigaku, Eiji ran over to where Ryuzaki-sensai and Taka stood, sharing an umbrella.

"Ne, ne, my oka-san's coming soon! She can give everyone a ride, so you can leave Ryuzaki-sensai. I'll make sure everyone gets home, nya!"

Ryuzaki-sensai smiled, trying to forget the cold that steeped into her body, the cool whip of the wind freezing her old bones. "As your coach and as a teacher of Seigaku, you know that's not possible."

"Then maybe we should go to the locker room or something." Taka kept the umbrella held mostly over Ryuzaki-sensai's head, the rain making his hair cling to the base of his skull, tiny rivers running down his face. "It's too cold out here."

"Yeah, yeah, let's go, let's go, nya!"  
"Kikumaru –"

He paused in mid-step, his tennis bag hoisted over his shoulder, his right hand picking up Fuji's discarded bag. "Hoi, hoi?"

She accepted Taka's offered hand gratefully, leaning slightly against the boy's strong frame as she spoke, "Taka?"

"Yes, Sensai?"  
"Why don't you go and get the others? I think they're still inside the locker room."

With a look towards Eiji's stiff figure and Ryuzaki-sensai's pursed lips, Taka nodded, handing the umbrella to the older woman before sprinting off into the rain.

"Kikumaru."  
"Hoi, hoi!"

"Why don't you help an old lady hold her bags while we wait?"  
--

The worth of things, the true measure of words and feelings, can never be expressed in just one gesture. The worth of Oishi's request, the pain of it, was enough to make Fuji's eyes widen in first surprise then sympathy. The worth of bandages and doubt, the weight of an empty seat and the spaces between words filling with sorrow; those are things that could never be adequately described, even as Oishi continued to speak against the rage of the coming storm.

"Eiji said he'll play doubles with me until the day he can surpass me. And now he has." Oishi lowered his hand, his good hand clutching at the base of his injured wrist. "I won't be any use to him. #1 is his dream now, and only his."

And then Fuji laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Oishi's eyes widen and then narrowed in anger. "Are you laughing at -!"

"But Oishi, wasn't it your dream too?" He swung his legs lightly before he stood from the bench, gathering Oishi's tennis rackets with both hands before kneeling to stuff them in Oishi's open bag. His smile was bright as he spoke, his long fingers gently brushing back strands of his wet hair, "I haven't played doubles for long, but I know this; doubles are two people working together to accomplish a goal."

Fuji then turned, offering his filled tennis bag to a smiling Oishi, "And I think Eiji wants to accomplish his goal with you. Not me."

"So work hard, Oishi."

The worth of Fuji's hand, lightly pressing against his shoulder, the smile they shared together was enough to make even the rain, pelting against the window, appear to be nothing more but manifestations of good thought and new beginnings.

"Your goal isn't that far off, now is it?"  
--

"And you're sure?"

He nodded, the bits of rain clinging to his hair as his catlike eyes took in the dark of the gathering twilight, the echoes of cars as they zoomed past Seigaku, splattering puddles in the midst of spinning tires. His grip around the umbrella handle tightened as he spoke, his head held high.

"I'm not Fuji. I can't keep on changing partners, nya."

Rain fell like tears across his focused face, his unwavering glance. Lighting tore at patches of hazy clouds and the wind was strong enough to knock the handles of his tennis rackets against Fuji's own.

Eiji turned to stare at Ryuzaki-sensei, a smile breaking across his face even as the rain continued to fall. "And it's not fair to ask Fuji to keep playing doubles all the time with me. You know he's a better singles player."

"Ne. ne, Sensai, it's not fair to either one of us."

He lifted his face to meet the wind, his free hand holding on tightly to the umbrella to stop it from blowing away, his eyes closed to meet the rain. "I'm gonna get better, nya. And then the Golden Pair will win, even with Oishi's injury."

Eiji's eyes glistened, streaks of rain gently clinging to the underside of his eyes, falling to meet at the base of his chin, "We're making it to Nationals, just like last year."  
--

It was a slow walk back from the locker room to the gates of Seigaku, where Eiji and Ryuzaki-sensai waited, their heads bowed under one single umbrella. The sidewalk was slippery, the grass nearly crushed by the weight of gathering raindrops. Taka lead the way, hoisting Oishi's tennis bag over one shoulder, happily talking about tomorrow's Culture Festival, how his father was donating almost ten pounds of sushi and how it better be beautiful weather tomorrow.

Fuji and Oishi smiled, making comments and replies when necessary. And as Eiji's waving figure came into view, Fuji gently tugged at Oishi's elbow, causing for him to lift his head to meet Fuji's smiling face.

"Work as hard as you can, Oishi. And if that time comes, and you need to rest, then don't worry. We'll wait for you to get better."

Taka ran ahead first, offering Oishi's dry team jacket to Ryuzaki-sensai as Eiji yelled for Oishi and Fuji to hurry up, jumping off the ground as he pumped his arms vigorously into the air.

His hand around Oishi's elbow was tight, filled with warmth that matched his shimmering eyes, "Just like how we're waiting for Tezuka."

"Fuji –"

And even if Oishi knew what to say, he couldn't speak, the lump in his throat swelling at Fuji's kindness, the hidden layer of pain underneath Fuji's words. The bond between Fuji and Eiji, that playful, devilish friendship, as seen in full flower on the courts today and in the bus, was not enough to erase the pain that Fuji carried with the absence of their Buchou. Besides Oishi, Fuji appeared to be one of Tezuka's closest friends, and every match without him must be a trial, a battle of mental endurance.

Because in the end, even if he never stepped on a court today, at least Oishi's best friend was around, cheering like an idiot at the rain, screaming for him and Fuji to run barefoot in the grass.

Oishi watched Fuji, taking off his shoes and socks to join Eiji's wild dance and finally, he understood what Fuji was saying, what Eiji was saying, underneath his shouts and screams, what both of their eyes were trying to tell him.

To be number 1 in the nation. It was everyone's dream that year. To think it was just one person's was not only absurd, but also, selfish.

For the first time today, Oishi's smile was genuine.  
--

The worth of friendship was the heaviest weight on all their shoulders that day, waiting for their rides back home, Ryuzaki-sensai finally giving into Taka's request and sitting in her warm car, watching and watching as Fuji and Eiji took turns running and then sliding on the patch of grass before Seigaku's gate, Taka and Oishi laughing as they stood watching.

And when Oishi turned to Ryuzaki-sensai, she nodded, understanding instantly what his eyes were saying, sparkling that brightly even in the midst of a rain storm. A team full of foxes and raccoons never listened to logic, even when the obvious and the logical were right in front of their faces.

She nodded again, even when Oishi's eyes shifted to watch the madness of Fuji and Eiji's wild runs. Until the day Fuji and Eiji both approach her, she'll never pair them as doubles partners, to avoid miscommunication and the loss of inspiration that forms the backbone of her tennis team.

The worth of the little things, Eiji's hand on Oishi's shoulder, Fuji's brilliant smile as Taka slipped on a patch of particularly slick grass, was enough for her to reevaluate victory and its ramifications. She wouldn't risk all of them forgetting the meaning of hard work, the worth of waiting and patience for easy victories.

Until the day Fuji and Eiji as well as Oishi decide that it's okay, Ryuzaki was going to keep the Golden Pair together, to keep inspiration alive throughout the whole team.

Some things were just that simple.  
--

_author's notes: Wow, it's been a long time, hasn't it? Well, I rewatched that Dream Pair episode where Fuji and Eiji kicked some serious ass and always wondered why the heck didn't Seigaku just keep that doubles team? So from there, this one-shot was born. Also, beware of the Prince of Tennis Musicals. go search on youtube underneath tenimyu and get ready to be seriously either amused, instantly obssessed or both. Pretty boys dancing with tennis rackets and singing in Engrish.. it's all sorts of amusing. of course, it's hard for me to write PoT ff without having some image of the musical actors in my head. JUST BE GONE and let me write my fanfiction in peace!!! Awww... as much as I love the Golden Pair, I can't help but wish there were more episodes where Fuji and Eiji played doubles. They're quite an amazing team to watch, and Fuji was really sweet all during that match. Yay for friendship!_


End file.
